War of the Seven Clans
by ShadowMajin
Summary: AU. Sequel to Clash of a Hundred Demons. Gotham is at the brink as the war between Bane and Ra's al Ghul intensifies. With the U.S. Government sealing the city off, its last hope for salvation rests with the return of its Dark Knight. Part 3 of 3.
1. It's Time To Go

Hello folks, ShadowMajin here with Anonymous Void. Here it is, the next installment in our series and the third chapter in this running trilogy. We hope y'all enjoy.

* * *

The water below was calm, interrupted only by the waves that washed up on the shore. The dark shadow that flew over it belonged to a helicopter, one that was accompanied by two others, all racing to an island that stood stoically as it took in the battering from the sea around it.

Propellers chopped through the air, the armed men inside the aircrafts locked and loaded, ready for a war. From their low altitude above the sea, the helicopters began raising higher into the air as they came closer to the island. No one spoke, even as they came to a stop over a large complex that their briefings informed them was Peña Duro prison. This was their destination and where the operation would commence. In response, the men pulled down masks over their faces and readied themselves to jump.

As soon as the side door was slid open, ropes were thrown out and the men were jumping soon after, sliding down the ropes to the roof below. Boots landed and crunched against the hard surface, clasped loosened to allow them to hurry to the nearest rooftop entrance. From there, the penetration of the prison was smooth. Military-grade rifles led the way for the body armor-wearing men through the maze of ancient hallways to the newer ones.

If there was any resistance, it was handled immediately. Silencers muffled the sounds of gunshots that felled prison guards and prisoners alike. No prisoners would be taken, no mercy given. They were on the clock, having mere minutes to complete their mission.

Coming across a door with a keypad next to it, one of the men pulled out a key card and slid it in. The pad lit up with green lights and the door slid open, allowing them access. Without needing an invitation, the men trekked further in, now including quick searches of the rooms they came across. The "clears" were quick and immediate, each one signifying that they had yet to find their target.

Until they did.

As the latest door was opened, the room held a man in a white lab coat who glanced up, not batting an eye at the commandos that invaded his personal sanctum. The man with the keycard took point, approaching the glasses-wearing man who continued to show no signs of surprise or fear. "Dr. Porter?"

"What brings you here?" Dr. Porter asked mildly, pushing himself away from the computer monitor he had, until then, been working on.

"I have orders to retrieve you, Doctor. We need to evacuate," the commando stated.

Porter shook his head. "Sorry, but I'm afraid that will not be happening."

"I have my orders, Sir."

"And I am refusing to join you, son. There is too much important work here for me to abandon."

"_Give him to me._"

Only the commando heard the voice, through his radio naturally. That was an order he heard and, after years in the military, he was quick to respond, sliding a hand under his mask and detaching the earpiece he wore.

Pulling it out, he held it to Porter. "My superior wants a word."

Porter remained nonplus, staring blandly at him for a moment before turning his gaze to the earpiece and accepting it. Putting it up to his ear, the researcher asked, "And who may this be?"

"_These men are here to retrieve you. Do not make this any harder and evacuate with them, Dr. Porter. As of now, Project Gilgamesh is officially terminated._"

Though the person on the other end of the line didn't, and wouldn't, see it, Porter shook his head in the negative. "And my answer remains the same. I will not leave my work and there is too much to do. There is not going to be another opportunity for me to continue my research and my formula could still be improved."

"_You've been compromised, Doctor. I don't know how those children were able to sneak in, nor do I know what they made off with, but I am not going to take the chance that they tell anyone about it. Gilgamesh will be shut down, one way or the other. Now go with Colonel Flag and don't cause any more problems._"

"My answer remains the same. I will not give my research up."

"_I see. Give the radio back._"

Pulling the earpiece away, Porter gave the device a look before handing it back to the commando. "Call's over."

Already putting the earpiece back on, he heard loud and clear, "_Terminate him._"

Without hesitation, he raised his rifle and pulled the trigger, filling Porter's body with several bullets. The scientist face expressed surprise and nothing else and he slumped in his seat, falling over onto the floor and laying still. Behind him, blood splattered on the work surface and the monitor that remained lit up Miraculously, no bullets had hit the machine.

Jumping into action, the commando was pulling out a flashdrive and inserting it into one of the ports. From there, he opened up a program and downloaded into the computer. Instantaneously, the images on the screen began to fuzz up until it was all unintelligible, the computer virus uploaded into it already taking effect. In seconds, it would compromise all the computers linked to it via wireless connection, contaminating, distorting, and outright destroying all information stored in their memory banks.

Retrieving the flashdrive, the commando next pulled out a block of C4 and set it up on the workstation. Behind him, his comrades were doing the same, sending out the order to wire the whole wing up. Nothing would be left for anyone to find.

In moments, the squad was trooping out of there, timers set and mere moments away from detonation. By now, their infiltration should be known and the sooner they left, the less resistance they would face.

It didn't take long to reach the roof and from there rehook themselves to the cables and retract the lines back up into the aircraft. All in all, the operation took ten minutes to complete and they were back over the ocean when the first explosions tore out of the prison they were leaving. Only the newest wing, the one set up for Porter, was destroyed; the rest of Peña Duro would be left to fend for itself.

The mission was complete.

"_Colonel, you have new orders_."

The commando responded, "Sir."

"_I need you to head over to Gotham City. This mess is far from being cleaned. You will await new orders once you arrive._"

"Yes, Sir. Over and out."

* * *

_There were a whole lot of words for being tired. Fatigued, exhausted, rundown_—_the list went on and on._

_Zatanna was more than willing to say she felt all of them and then some._

_At least, she had the day before. Having to dive headfirst into another dimension to magically battle an inter-dimensional demon and have it handedly end in a tie had wiped her out. Well, perhaps she had come out on top considering said demon wanted to keep her as a trophy and she was most definitely not that right now. A paralysis spell that was temporary at best for that kind of demon had allowed her to escape while sealing off the portal between that realm and hers._

_Regardless, she hadn't felt like she had won._

_It was the day after and her magical fatigue was starting to lift. Normally Zatanna would've taken the day off to recover more fully, but she wanted assurance the portal was sealed off and there wasn't going to be a repeat battle in the near-future. So she had come to the one place that could point her in the right direction._

_Shoving open the door to Madam Xanadu's fortune teller pallor, the dark-haired woman strolled in. "Xanadu! Hello!" she called out with more enthusiasm than she actually felt. "Your favorite punching bag is here!"_

_Much to her surprise, Xanadu was not at her table. Strange, but not unprecedented. Zatanna had a knack for finding the fortune teller in less than flattering situations, something she had never let the madam live down and annoyed the older woman to no end. Xanadu, of course, managed to muster up some elegance to the entire situation, but it was just too much to not laugh at._

_Seeing Xanadu washing her unmentionables was right at the top of the list._

_Undaunted, Zatanna headed for a door at the back of the pallor. If her teacher wasn't at the front, she was most likely in the back somewhere. Maybe she was in her apartment on the second floor of the building. Reaching the door, she opened and strolled on through._

_It seemed her guess was right on the money. In contrast to the mystical-looking setting of the pallor_—_one tailored to draw happy-go-lucky couples into the magic and mysticism of palm readings and fortune tellings_—_the back room was more in touch with the real world. It was a small room with a doorway leading to a staircase that led upstairs. For furnishings, there was a small table with a television best suited for the 70's on top of it. By that she meant it was small, had metal antenna ears sticking out of its top and should have shown black-and-white images. Zatanna highly suspected magic was at play for why it was showing colored stills._

_There was a small stove in the corner, one that a kettle of tea was cooling on. A folding chair that was usually placed in front of the television was lying on its side on the floor, Xanadu standing fully erect as she stared at the screen._

_Well, this was disappointing. Zatanna had been hoping to add another embarrassing moment to her collection. C'est la vie._

"_Hey, Teach," the magician greeted, which caused Xanadu to jump in place, head snapping towards her. Zatanna couldn't help but note how odd that was. If anyone was the model of composure, it was Xanadu. This behavior was off_—_for her._

"_When did you get here?" Xanadu asked, eyes boring right into her. O...kay, this was getting really strange._

"_Just now," Zatanna answered, placing her hands on her hips as she gave her teacher a funny look. "Sorry if I didn't immediately come over after going to the other side, but I needed some me time."_

"_You shouldn't be here," the madam interjected then, which further caused the magician to frown. "You need to go home right now."_

_That was rude. "Who's magical tailcoat have you been yanking on this time?" Zatanna demanded, a scowl appearing on her face. "I swear, if Brother Night is involved, I will drag your ass out onto the street and spank you in front of everyone."_

_For just a moment, Xanadu's eyes darted to the television, just before she realized just what the magician had said. "You will not sully my reputation with a child's punishment," she shot back heatedly._

_There, that was the pride of Madam Xanadu. However, her hesitation had given her away. There was something on the TV she didn't want the younger woman to see and that was all she needed to know. "I will if you've been making deal with a soul-stealing…"_

_Zatanna trailed off, mostly because she had taken the opportunity to look at the fortune teller's television. On it was a news station with Jack Ryder on screen, a news anchor for Gotham's top news program. That was hardly out of the ordinary since Ryder was broadcasted up and down the East Coast._

_The banner at the bottom of the screen, however…_

_In bold letters, the banner proclaimed "BATMAN GONE?"_ _That was the first thing to get her attention. The second was Ryder's words, ones that finally reached her ears and her brain began to make sense of._

"It has nearly been two weeks since the criminal known as Bane rocked the city with his proclamation. Ever since, crime has skyrocketed throughout Gotham to heights unseen since the Depression nearly a decade previous. The Batman has been noticeably missing since this time—"

_At this, Ryder's image was replaced with that of a beefcake of a man. _Jesus, he's huge! _Zatanna immediately thought. She was unsure of who the guy was, but he must've been a giant, what with all of those muscles. His face was hidden by a mask, but that became completely irrelevant._

_The man had his arms over his head, holding what looked like another person all dressed in black. Zatanna felt her heart sink in her chest as she stared, completely fixated on the screen._

_Bruce…_

_Something had gone down in Gotham while she had been in a different reality altogether. Something that had taken him off the streets according to the newscaster._

_Immediately, Zatanna was marching back into the front pallor, ignoring everything around her. "Zatanna! Wait!" Xanadu cried after her. "You mustn't_—"

"_Ot eht evactab," the dark-haired woman spoke and a cloud of smoke enveloped her, the sight of Xanadu's room vanishing from before her eyes. Without breaking stride, she continued to walk, emerging out from the smoke and entering the Batcave._

_The lights were on, something she took as a good sign. She was at the bottom of the stairs that led up to Wayne Manor, which was nearly perfect placement for her. Snapping her head to her right, she saw the platform that held the Med Bay, its metal staircase leading right up to it. Picking up her pace, she nearly ran for the stairs, climbing up them as fast as she could._

What? _Zatanna froze the moment she reached the platform. Before her was the Med Bay, but it was clearly empty. In fact, it didn't even look used at all. The metal table that was used for medical care was bare, gleaming in the light streaming down on it. There was a table next to it, a stool situated in front of it, and some sort of medical supplies resting on top of the table. It looked as if it had been used, but there was no telling when._

_What was going on here? If Bruce had been hurt_—_and that news broadcast had made that readily apparent_—_this was the most likely place he would've gone. It was safe, protected, and no one knew where it was._

_So why wasn't he here?_

"_Bruce?" she called out, hearing her voice echo throughout the cave. The bats above her stirred at her hail, causing them to chirp and squirm on the ceiling._

"_Bruce," she tried again, eyes searching the cave now, first slowly so that she checked everything, but steadily becoming more frantic. Alright, this was all wrong. He should be here. No way would he go up to the manor to convalesce without having some way to access the medical supplies down here. He didn't trust just anyone, so he wouldn't have someone being his hands and legs, not to mention the suddenness of his encounter with Bane, whoever that was. It was just too close of a time frame for Batman and Bruce Wayne to be hurt._

_The imagine flashed before her eyes again, that muscle-bound jerk holding what looked like a limp Bruce over his head. What had happened exactly? What had led up to this strange turn of events?_

_She needed answers now._

_Zatanna closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath and holding it. She was letting her emotions get the best of her. Right now, she needed to calm down and think her next move through. Releasing her breath, she opened her eyes. Right now, answers weren't forthcoming and running around after some was a waste of time and effort. She needed to do an investigation and she needed to do it smartly._

_And as it turned out, she had just the spell to do that. The longer she had been practicing magic, the more she found certain spells came more natural to her. As it turned out, she could enter another person's memory and search through it like a book, or perhaps a computer with the ctrl-f function. It had done her wonders before._

_However, there was a small problem in that there wasn't someone around that she could just look into their memory and find out all the answers. While that was the most direct way to learn about Bruce, there were indirect ways to do the same thing. In this case, or so she was thinking, she just needed to search the memory of the cave._

_Gathering her magical energies, she fed them into her spell, one that was conjuring within her mind. "Wohs em," she spoke, her voice coming out deeper than usual._

_The world around her suddenly became blurry as a transparent aura enveloped her. Then the aura spread out in all directions, becoming more like a distorted wave even as the cave took on a muted tone. Brown was the dominant color, the usual darkness becoming less so. The wave continued to spread out until it came into contact with the cave walls, vanishing from sight._

_Very little had changed, though Zatanna figured that was just because of the direction she was looking. Turning around, she regarded the Med Bay, and much to her surprise, she found someone sitting at the table by the bed._

_Most astonishing was that it wasn't Bruce. No, this person was smaller, thinner, and if she wasn't mistaken, looked like a girl. The mask was different too, covering their face completely, with black lens where the eye should be. There was a yellow outline of the Bat Symbol on their chest too._

_Alright, she may have been gone from Gotham for a long while, but what the hell was this? There was a second person wearing the Bat Symbol? Since when? And why a girl? Staring, Zatanna soon realized this Bat-girl-person was doing something with the equipment on the table. She was pushing a button, which caused the device she was playing with to make a whirring sound._

_Suddenly, an alarm blasted throughout the cave, muted, but loud enough to cause both Zatanna and the girl to look in the direction of the main computer. Even from where she stood, she could see a dull red light flashing from the main screen._

_Her eyes hardening, focusing, the area around the computer seemed to draw closer to Zatanna without her even taking a step. In the span of a moment, she was now standing right next to the chair in front of the Bat-computer, the Med Bay a distant memory._

_And there was Bruce in the chair, his mask off, though he was in the rest of his Batman regalia. Zatanna took one look at him and gasped. His face...he looked awful. Like he was sick, or not getting enough sleep, or...or...just bad to be frank._

_In spite of this, he was looking right at the computer. Managing to tear her eyes away from the man, Zatanna caught sight of multiple windows popping up all over the screen. They didn't make sense to her until she realized they were CCTV footage of areas throughout Gotham. What they were showing was what looked like trees and plants and who knows what ripping up and tearing apart the city. Hell, one of the bridges had a tree rip right through it._

_Alright, she was at a loss. She had seen all kinds of crazy shit in Gotham, be it in person, or on the news. This...Nature Gone Wild thing was a whole new level of crazy._

_Suddenly, the cave began to shake, the bats overhead going into a tizzy as they suddenly began shrieking and even taking off flying from the roof and heading through the multitude of passages to leave. Bruce grabbed onto the arms of his chair tightly, riding out the tremor. Once it stopped though, he seemed to be glaring at the screen._

_Zatanna broke her focus then, ending her spell. The muted, dull colors started to become a more vibrant tone of darkness, Bruce vanishing from his position at the computer. In fact, Zatanna was back in the Med Bay, standing by the staircase as she looked over the Batcave._

_It didn't take a genius to know that Bruce had gone out into Gotham. He had gone out there, not really fit to do so, and had run into Bane._

_However, he hadn't come back. Her spell to look into the cave's memory had been designed so that she could experience the last memory experienced here and what she had seen was clearly the beginning of something._

_Why hadn't he come back?_

_And, more importantly, where was he now?_

The sensation to sneeze suddenly pulled Zatanna out of her daydream, the dark-haired woman stifling it as best as she could. Why she was thinking of something that had happened months ago?

There were more important things to worry about. One thing, for instance, was Bruce...Batman standing at the edge of a skyscraper. There was a gargoyle at the corner, one that was long and stretched out from the building, which the dark-clad man stood on, looking over the gloomy city.

He had been standing there for awhile now. Zatanna was a decent distance away, watching him, waiting to see what he would do. She had followed him here, though he hadn't really told her to back off at all. After everything he had gone through to get to this point, she had to admit she was worried.

There was something different about him. While she was convinced a lot of that had to do with the beating Bane had given him, there was something in the back of her head that told her that there was something else. In times long gone, he would've told her to back off, or given her something to do that would allow him to be off by himself. Now though, it was as if he didn't mind, or didn't care that she was with him.

Hmm, considering that little, yet very important, piece of info, she was a little more certain that there was something else on his mind.

They had been standing here for awhile, long enough for a cool breeze the blow by and send a shiver through Zatanna. It was times like this she wondered why she hadn't designed a new costume for her superheroine escapades. Fishnet stockings did nothing against changes in temperature.

Suddenly, Batman backed off the gargoyle, turning around to face her when he was back on the roof. Zatanna hid a frown at this.

There was some uncertainty in his movements, which was what was catching her attention. She had known the man for a long time now and he had always been so sure of himself, even when his world was crashing down around him.

"Still here," the vigilante stated. It was more like a remark actually and he was clearly addressing her.

"You act as if I'd leave," the dark-haired woman replied, crossing her arms over her chest as she raised an eyebrow at him.

"Thought you would lose interest," he grunted as he approached her, coming to stand before her.

"With you? Never."

There was a twitch with the corner of his mouth, an aborted smile no doubt. It was nice to know she could still find his more human side beneath all that armor and gruffness. That was something that hadn't changed at least.

"Let's go," he said then, turning to walk in a different direction.

"You're not going to jump off that gargoyle?" she asked him, not bothering to hide her surprise. "You usually just did that instead of tell me."

Batman paused, stopping mid-step. "Now...isn't the time," he said after awhile, not even looking at her. "There's a lot to do and I need your help to do it."

Alright, her concern was coming right back. Zatanna wasn't sure what was going on inside the man's head, but him backing off throwing himself off a roof was unheard of. Then to say he needed her help, why, there must have been a planetary alignment going on.

The magician glanced up into the sky to make sure that wasn't the exact reason. Nope, no alignment that she could see.

So she decided to see what he had in mind for her. "Alright, where do we start first?"

* * *

While not ideal, the motel that the Gordons had to take shelter in was better than nothing. They only had the clothes they were wearing and a half-paid off credit card between the two of them.

Had they known that the National Guard had been planning to blow all the bridges in Gotham, they might have packed for the occasion.

Gordon had to remind himself that this was all moving pretty quickly. It didn't change the fact that not only was he on the wrong side of the river where all the action was happening, but most of the other officers, the ones patrolling in this part of the city, were all the ones he had direct contact to. The majority were still on the island and, according to Sawyer, Petit was the one rallying spirits and bringing them together.

Worst of all, Barbara, his paralyzed daughter, was trapped on that island too. He wanted nothing more that swim over there, or somehow get across the river and make sure that she was alright. Unless law enforcement was able to hold the peace, once people over there figured out they were trapped, it was going to be chaos over there.

Everything was spinning out of control.

Normally, he would be in his office, sitting at his desk, elbows propped on the flat surface with hands on his head. This time, he was sitting on a cheap mattress with his elbows on his knees. The only benefit was that Sarah was right next to him, shoulder against his and sharing in the silence.

This was something that wouldn't go over well back at the precinct.

How had everything come to this? It all ran together, starting back with the attack on Blackgate to the fall of Batman, and then Bane's unending assault on Gotham. General Eiling and the National Guard wasn't making the situation any better. Who had ordered this? Who thought that this was a good idea in the first place?

The Guard was suppose to be here to fill in the lagging manpower of the GCPD, nothing else. They were going to finally have the strength needed to bring Bane down once and for all, right when they needed it the most.

"I keep going over it in my head, but for the life of me, I can't figure out what the hell is happening," he said finally. "What am I missing? What have I been missing that's been in front of me this whole time?"

"Maybe it isn't something in front of us, but hiding behind our backs," Sarah suggested, giving in and letting her head rest against his shoulder. In response, the Commissioner raised a hand and held it to the side of her head. Her hand placed itself over his immediately. "Nothing about this has been clear cut, not for the last few months. There've been these twists that seem to come out of nowhere, and that's on top of us taking curve balls every other day."

"We haven't been at the top of our game," Gordon agreed, refraining from nodding his head. Instead, he leaned it against the top of Sarah's. "I know I've been desperate to try and turn things around, to not let the past repeat itself. Why does it feel like that I've only made things worse?"

"You did what you felt like you needed to do. We all did." Pulling away, Sarah placed her hands on either side of his face and turned his head so that he was looking her in the eyes. "We did the best we could under the circumstances."

"If this is our best, the city deserves a refund," Gordon found himself retorting. To his surprise, Sarah took no offense to his words, cracking a smile while her shoulders shook for a second.

"Maybe, but you didn't blow up several bridges as a means to fix everything. Somehow, despite everything, you, we, managed to hold this city together for as long as we could. This can't be how it ends," Sarah continued.

Well, when put that way, it seemed like he had set the bar too high for Eiling. "What else can we do? The Guard's taking over now and, for all intents and purposes, we're pushed to a side."

"If the Guard was in charge, why blow up the bridges and trap millions of people with Bane? It makes no sense and it sounds like someone wanting to go for an extreme solution rather than a practical one. We can't let them get away with this," she told him.

"And do what? You can bet both of us will get reamed if we make such a fuss. There's going to be people mocking us, thinking we got out not because of chance, but because we're cowards."

"And none of them were over there. Or here, fighting Bane for every city block. You're not telling me that the man I know is going to be worried about what a few media heads think about him after all this time?"

"This isn't normal and I'm out of my depth right now," he answered frankly. "Even after the Gotham Fire...it wasn't ever this bad."

"But we'll find our way through it, just like we always do," Sarah said gently. "Every time it seemed like the odds were against us, somehow, we manage to get Gotham through it and we all the better for it. This time will be no different. We can't let it, otherwise Bane wins."

"How can you be so sure?" he asked, almost desperate to hear what she would say.

"I can't. I just have faith, both in you and myself." Not exactly what he wanted to hear but it would have to do, They were both out of their depth, and it was obvious that she was also trying to convince herself. A generic answer would have to do until something shifted and changed the balance.

Taking her hands and pulling them from his face, he said, "I'm going outside for some air. I'll be back later."

"You mean, we'll be back. Now's not the time to be splitting up—unless you have something you want me to do," Sarah denied, though her words were more coy at the end.

Shaking his head, Gordon replied, "Sometimes I don't know what I would do without you."


	2. The New Assassins

They had answered his calls and now Bane gazed upon the fruits of his loyal lieutenant's harvest.

These were the best of the best, men who were some of the most renowned assassins the world had ever known, and all were here for a promised payday in exchange for their services. Bane knew how this business worked; he had freelanced in it once.

While involved in it, he had heard of these people through stories, knew them from the descriptions of those who had dealings with them. The one with the targeting device over his eye was infamous for his ability to never miss a shot. The one who wore a dual-colored mask and wore swords on his back had a reputation as a brutal hand-to-hand combatant and weapons master. There was even another masked man whose mask bore a resemblance to his own; there was also an immense amount of muscle on that large frame and the only difference between this killer and the man from Peña Duro was that this person bore a large firearm for a hand.

Just a token few of the party that had made it through the blockade.

"You all know who I am. You all know that I am capable of paying your fees," Bane stated, his arms crossed over his chest. There was no doubt in his mind who the better fighter here was and if any attempted, they would be as successful as the rest that had come for his own head.

Those unlucky few had ended in failure.

"It's hard not to know, and frankly, I don't give a shit," the dual-colored masked assassin retorted, adopting a posture similar to Bane's. "All I want to know is who's the mark."

Straight to the point, also part of the reputation that was Deathstroke the Terminator. Bane appreciated such directness as he himself disliked meaningless small talk.

"The marks are any and all who belong to a cabal that opposes my efforts in Gotham," the masked Santa Priscan stated. "They dress in the fashion of ninjas, and for each one you kill, that will be ten thousand a head. For lieutenants, I offer a million per head. For the man who leads them, fifty million."

There was a whistle from the sniper, the man's name coming to Bane a moment later. "Sounds like he's been giving you a headache," Deadshot responded.

"If you don't mind, what is the identity of this headache?" a dark haired man in black, several feathered ends of arrows on his person, the main quiver located on his back. The black bodysuit he wore, from the sides of his arms, and even his legs, were designed in such a way that they did not limit mobility. Based on that description, Bane concluded that this had to be the archer known as Merlyn.

"From his own lips, he claims to be Ra's al Ghul," he informed the group. From behind the lens in his mask, his eyes narrowed as he observed how the assassins tensed up. The tenseness was reflexive, meaning that at some point or another these men had heard of that name before and knew of its reputation. Curious as to how he hadn't known.

"The hell is the Demon's Head doing here?" Merlyn remarked. perking up from where he sat.

"Are you saying that you turn down my offer?" Bane asked, keeping his voice mild. While he did not want to, he would raise the price if only to ensure that he kept these killers' services. The word he had been getting back from Santa Prisca was causing him some worry, but there was nothing to be done for it. He would address the events at Peña Duro later, after he had finished his conquest of Gotham.

"I don't care if he's a legend," Deathstroke snorted, attracting all attention to him. "For fifty million, I'll bring you his head on a platter. I'll even serve it with your choice of wine."

"Not unless I get to it first," the sniper retorted, patting a gloved hand against a gun he wore holstered at his side.

"As of now, I do not know of al Ghul's location, but know that he is hiding somewhere in Gotham," Bane continued his briefing. "All of his activities have been in opposition to mine. He does not make efforts towards anything else. Should you encounter him, know that he is a proficient swordsman and do not take him lightly. The same goes for any of his subordinates."

"Just get your checkbook ready," Deathstroke stated, already turning his back on the masked man and making his way out. The rest of the assassins followed suit, leaving Bane behind with his remaining forces.

"They seem a confident lot. Think they'll be able to pull it off?" Bird asked from beside him.

"Whether they are successful matters not," Bane stated. "All they need to do is keep al Ghul distracted long enough until Tetch is ready. After that, nothing will matter."

"Well, until that happens, what are we going to do with the blockade?" the blond American brought up.

Turning on his heels, Bane began to walk, his loyal lieutenant following after. "We can take advantage of it. The Americans think that by isolating me, they can starve me. Their understanding of black market and smuggling operations is downright pathetic. As long as Cobblepot can maintain his supply lines, we can use it to turn Gotham against their would-be saviors. We will buy favor with the people with food and water, and they will be loyal soldiers until the option of loyalty is removed.

"Until then, begin increasing our presence on the streets. We will take hold of all transportation in Gotham, in particular those that have to do with goods. Seize all products that are transported without my consent. I want a fifty percent take on every transaction."

"Pay the piper if you want to do business, got it," Bird said. "I'll spread the word."

* * *

Gordon was slumped over in a foldout chair, his face resting in the palm of his hand. A large tent had been erected for his and his wife use, though the amenities left something to be desired. He had the feeling Eiling just wanted to shove him off into some hole and this was his next best option. His conversation with Sarah was on repeat in his head, yet he couldn't find a way around this massive, sinkhole of a problem.

Once upon a time, he had thought calling in the National Guard was the best move for Gotham. That had gone up in flames, along with the bridges. He had no answer, no response. Even worse, he wasn't in a position to change any of it.

No, that actually was the worst part.

He smelled something then, something familiar. Coffee. Suddenly, he had a craving for coffee. Sarah must have just placed a cup down next to him. She was really something, staying strong in this crisis. She even had the frame of mind to take care of him.

"Thanks, Sar—" he began as he pulled his head out of his hand, turning to look at the styrofoam cup on the small table next to him. He stopped the moment he saw only the cup and Sarah nowhere in sight.

_What the?_

"Jim."

Gordon stiffened. He _knew_ that voice. Whipping his head around, he found the lone dark place in the tent. Due to the kerosene lamp situated on the table close to the coffee cup, the tent was well lit, so shadows were few and far in between. Yet, there was this giant one right along the tarp, its white eyes staring right at him.

_It can't be…_

"You look tired," Batman spoke, his gravelly voice further removing doubt in the Commissioner's mind.

Gordon swallowed a large lump that had been forming in his throat. "I feel tired," he responded after awhile.

The vigilante took a silent step towards him, seeming to be gliding across the ground. "What's the situation?"

Was...was he wanting a status report? For some reason, Gordon found that comforting. "I'm pretty sure you know what's going on, but Bane has Gotham in a death grip. Now, for whatever reason, the National Guard has blown up every land route into the city, trapping millions of people with that maniac. Arkham had a breakout, led by the Joker, whom I've been hearing rumors that he's been dressing up like you."

There was a twitch from the corner of the vigilante's mouth at that. The white-haired man could only assume Batman wasn't too thrilled about hearing that rumor, not that Gordon was either. "Hugo Strange did the same thing, but he's in police custody, receiving medical treatment for an overdose at Gotham Mercy. There was an outbreak at Mercy too, which we've been attributing to a hallucinogen that causes fear—I'll let you guess who's behind that one."

Was there anything else he was forgetting? Gordon was pretty sure there was something else he was leaving out—a lot of somethings. So much had gone on over the last few months that surely he was forgetting something of importance.

Oh, right, Bane himself. "And Bane's been doing everything he can to put Gotham under his thumb. He's attacked the GCPD, all but destroyed what remained of the gangs and Mob, and anyone that gets in his way, he crushes without a second thought."

That was important, though Gordon felt that wasn't all. A frown creased his brow as he thought long and hard. Thankfully, Batman was patient as the dark-clad man stared down at him.

It hit him like a bolt of lightning. "Cobblepot," he growled, not even bothering to hide his disdain. "That little bastard is out and has been playing every side he can."

Batman perked up at that. "He must have gotten out during the Blackgate breakout."

"That's what he's admitted to. He has to go back, the sooner the better."

"He will." Gordon couldn't help but feel relieved upon hearing those words. While he had his hands tied, Batman had no such restrictions. He would hunt that little man down and bring him to justice, no question about it.

"What's the National Guard doing?" the vigilante then asked.

The Commissioner snorted in derision. "They're doing everything they can to turn this powder keg into an atom bomb. They're quarantining the city for some reason, I'm not sure what. I'm pretty sure though, it has something to do with Bane. It's possible they want to starve him of resources, but the way they're going about it is just bad."

There was a slight scowl on Batman's face, the part of which that could be seen anyways. "For now, we'll have to let the National Guard keep the city sealed."

Those were not words Gordon wanted to hear. "Why the hell should we let them do that?"

"Someone else is pulling strings here and they're using the National Guard to cover for them. They're going to make another move before too long and that's when we'll get them. Until then, we'll let them think they're in control. In the meantime, you need to position yourself where you can get the blockade torn down at a moment's notice. I'll let you know when to begin."

"What are you going to do?"

Batman looked in the direction of the city, though it wasn't visible due to the side of the tent. "There are more players in the city than outside; I'll be finding out who they are and stopping them. I trust the GCPD will be assisting."

Gordon shook his head. "I don't think so. After you left, we...I had to place a mandate to arrest any and all vigilantes in the city. Things were getting too dangerous to have to worry about them too and there was pressure from within the department to enforce the law on them. I didn't see any other choice."

There was a moment of silence. "Is there anyone I can trust?"

"Sarah's over here with me. Bullock and Montoya are both in the hospital, though Harvey should be in rehab by now, if not finished. The only one I can think of that you might have a chance with is Maggie Sawyer. She's got a level head on her. But watch out for Bill Petit. He'll be gunning for you."

Batman nodded.

That was when Gordon heard some noise. Turning his head to the entrance to the tent, he saw the flap open and Sarah entered, a couple cups of coffee in her hands. She had a questioning look on her face. "Were you talking to someone, Jim?"

Gordon looked back over to Batman, only to find the man had vanished into thin air. Heh, never thought he would've missed that until now. "Just myself," he replied after a moment. "And I realize I have some work to do."

* * *

Even though it was night, it was hard not to see the smoke that rose from the remains of Gotham's bridges. Andrea stared at the sight from her hotel room, on the other side of the river.

This would pose a problem for her, getting in and out of the city. She had wanted some space from downtown and to be closer to Crane for her regular orders of fear toxin. That way she could engage in her nighttime activities with little interference from any accidental interlopers.

With a sigh, she lowered her gaze from the sight of Gotham and to the mask she wore during her forays into the city. The skull design of the mask stared back impassively, giving no judgment.

Was it her, or had she done most of her activities here as the Phantasm? It was getting harder to remember, even as events kept moving closer and closer to a head. While coming back to Gotham, her true purpose was to finish off all elements of the False Face Society that still hid in it, she had had the motive of hopefully reconnecting with Bruce again. Leaving abruptly for a second time most likely put another strain on the still-recovering relationship she had with her old love, and that was but another hurdle to jump over.

However, when she had visited, Wayne Manor had been empty. It had taken the sight of Alfred's grave to remind her of where the faithful butler was. What it didn't explain was where Bruce was. Even her meeting with Lucius hadn't been informative enough to help on that.

As a result, she had delved into her Phantasm business to the detriment of everything else. So far, she couldn't find any new leads on Sionis, but Hugo Strange would be a good consolation. Why those vigilantes kept getting in her way...this should have been finished a while ago.

Her grip tightened on the mask, the only sign of her frustration. Out of habit, she was able to push it back. It was something she was used to doing so it was second nature at this point.

Right now, it was best to wait. She was not going to underestimate them, especially not that Asian one with the swords. Vaguely, she recalled seeing that one before, and she was still a pain even after all this time later. They had grown their ranks as well, so it stood to reason they would keep Strange's hospital under watch in case she made a third attempt.

All that needed to be done was wait until they were distracted before going in for the kill. Even now, she remembered how Strange had "helped" her conceive the identity of the Phantasm, allowing her to compartmentalize herself in a bizarre way like that multiple personality stuff, except without the multiple personalities. That he was involved with Sionis was all that was needed for his death warrant.

Since he was in a coma last she checked, he would not be going anywhere anytime soon. That meant she could divert her attention to the latest unforeseen complication.

For the most part, she had been ignoring Bane. That whole thing had nothing to do with her so long as it did not interfere with her mission. Except, it was now that the shipments Crane had ordered for this toxin were under attack.

That was another thing, she noted. It was as if Crane was trying to come up with reasons to keep her here in Gotham. What his reasons were, or the purpose of her staying was unknown—Andrea had no intention of staying in Gotham until it was confirmed with absolute certainty that the Batman was not coming back. So long as his absence continued, she would continue to operate until everything was settled.

Still, she had been noticing more people moving around. Workers, Crane had told her, who she had seen manufacturing more of Crane's toxin and at a larger scale than Crane was capable of alone. While she questioned the need to create such large amounts, as long as it wasn't a problem, it was something she could overlook.

Crane aside, Andrea was not about to allow her fear toxin supply to dwindle again, not if she could help it. If Bane was going to interfere, knowingly or unknowingly, then the fight would be brought to him.

_When does it end, Andrea? When you're done with Black Mask, who do you go after next?_

The red-haired woman jumped, surprised at the innocuous memory. It almost felt...but the Batman was not here. Still, why that memory? Why those words?

No, no, it was best not to think about it. There would be an end to this, she was certain. Once the False Face Society had answered for its sins would she take off the Phantasm's mask once and for all. But first, Bane's interference had to be resolved, and if that meant killing Bane, so be it.

Crane's fear toxin was too valuable a tool to be cast aside a second time. It gave her an edge whether she needed it or not, though it was empowering to see the people who saw themselves as powerful and strong reduced to crying messes begging for their lives. The stronger the target, the more necessary the toxin was.

So Bane would be taken care of, until the next opportunity for Strange appeared, and then her business in Gotham would be finished.

Turning the mask around, with one hand she reached back and tugged the gray-colored hood over her head before covering her face once more.

It was time to get back to business and the first order was to send Bane a message. The best way to do that was to target one of his operations in the city, whatever and wherever they may be. It didn't matter what it was so long as it gained Bane's attention.

The Phantasm knew how to it that, at least.

* * *

Alarms were blaring, the incessant beeping refusing to be ignored. Barbara sat at her station, not bothering to silence it as she went in search for why her trusty computer system would be screaming at her.

She had been at her post for some time and for the first time in a long time it felt as if she weren't on edge. If anything, she was eager to have her system detect a disturbance of any kind.

Part of that she attributed to the sudden reinforcements of the Network.

Dick and Tim had been talking about it nonstop since it had happened. Tim was like a little kid all over again, giddy and enthused. Dick was looking more relieved and relaxed, something he hadn't been since they had started, and he began leading, the Network. Now though, Batman was back and taking up the reigns without even missing a beat.

Within the week, there was a sudden influx of tech updates and new equipment for the hacker, which Barbara was stunned by. The entire vigilante group was getting new armor and weapons as well. However, most importantly was the video cameras each and every vigilante had on their person, the feeds being synced up to her computers so that she got whole new angles and recordings. She knew exactly where the vigilantes were and what was happening from their first-person experience. There was even a feed for Green Arrow, even though he wasn't one of Gotham's regulars.

All of this occurred without her being the wiser. She had left her station for food, or sleep, or something, and when she came back, she found messages throughout every screen of multiple system updates. She had been spending the last few days familiarizing herself with them and discovering all of her new capabilities.

Still, there was a part of her that was wondering why this was all happening. Batman had never gone out of his way to help the other vigilante groups; in fact, he had made it very well known he didn't want any of them out in the streets. He had begrudgingly given the Batclan armor and equipment once and he tolerated the Birds of Prey at best.

Why the sudden change?

Perhaps it had to do with what was happening in Gotham. Bane and the Demon's Fang and the Phantasm and...and...there was so much going on and that wasn't even including what the Joker was up to.

Well, whatever it was, Barbara was just glad there was a beacon of hope now. She had thought the Network would be that hope when it was formed, but it seemed like their every move just went into a darker and deeper hole. She hadn't ever discounted the effect Batman had on everyone, but it was more uplifting than she had thought possible.

Scanning through the alerts on her main computer, Barbara soon found what she sought. On the other computer monitors, video footage from traffic cams, CCTV, and even satellite coverage appeared. There was a full-blown riot in the street, not too surprisingly in front of a general store. Already, her computer system was picking out known felons as small red boxes began popping up on random people in the crowd, listing off their rap sheets off to a side, each new ID appearing below the one that came before it.

Not all of those people were bad guys, though. White boxes were appearing over everyone that wasn't a convicted felon, meaning they were just regular people. With Gotham being shut off from the world—a veritable No Man's Land—people were becoming desperate, fighting others for the remaining food stores and supplies. They were people just trying to get by and having to do that trapped with vicious, malicious felons.

"Oracle to all points," Barbara spoke into her mic, one that connected to every comm link in the Network. "I've got a riot in progress on Hope and 31st. Looks like someone was raiding the general store there and it turned nasty."

She received a couple of affirmatives, Dick being one of them, and Black Canary as well. She hadn't heard from Batman though, but she had no doubt he was in route. This was going to be his coming out party after all.

The guest of honor would be sure to make it.

* * *

To FlackAttack: So you want the seven groups? Alright, I'm feeling generous. 1) Batman and the Network, 2) Bane, 3) Ra's al Ghul and the Demon's Fang, 4) The GCPD, 5) The Phantasm and Scarecrow, 6) The National Guard, and everyone's favorite, 7) Bat-Joker. As you can see, there's a lot of people about to go at it


	3. Gotham Riots

With tires screeching to a halt, Maggie Sawyer didn't stop to turn off the motor as she was out of the car, already taking in the sights. Up ahead was the riot itself, so far turning into a brawl as citizens fought against one another over whatever they could get their hands on. Panic had already settled in and the normal rules of society were being conveniently ignored. Storefronts were damaged, windows being smashed as looters made short work of whatever was inside. Things escalated when the first looters ran into the second wave and both sides began fighting over the same television, food, or in one case a lamp.

Between her and the riot, two cop cars were used to block the road, a crude attempt to try and create a perimeter. Standing on the side closest to her were several officers, all holding their guns and calling out to one another about what needed to be done next.

_So who was taking charge here?_

Coincidentally, it was Petit's bellowing that answered that question. "I want those people corralled! No one in, or out!" the SWAT commander shouted his order. "Everyone get ready to use force!"

Sawyer didn't like the sound of that, even though from the looks of things they were going to need to use force. From here she could hear the sounds of store windows being shattered and cars being flipped. The loud, raucous shouts from the riots were a constant din that had to be forcefully ignored.

_Get your head on straight, Maggie. You needed to get some facts on the situation, and not form a conclusion based on what you can see._

"What's the situation, Bill?" she called out as she approached the mustached man.

"No time to talk, Lieutenant," Petit dismissed, the geared-up officer pacing down the line, as if he was inspecting every inch of the perimeter. "We got too many hostiles that will turn on us once we engage. Now's not the time to talk; we need to act now."

"Not without some kind of plan," the Metropolis transplant argued back, picking up the pace and following after the man. "You said it yourself, there's a chance those people will attack us if we go in. We need to do this in a way that will not put us all at risk of harm, but will disperse them.

"Oh, I have a plan for that." Then, both aloud and into his radio, Petit ordered, "All officers, you are authorized to use lethal force in subduing any hostiles. Do not show any mercy, do you hear me?"

Maggie batted her eyes in disbelief. Did Petit say what she thought she heard him say?

"Our guys are using rubber bullets, right?" Sawyer asked cautiously.

"This is war, Sawyer, and we're all on our own. The Commissioner's not here to hold our hands, so we need to grow a pair and do what needs to be done," the SWAT commander retorted.

"They are still people we should be protecting!" she exclaimed. Where the hell was all this coming from? Nearly fifteen years in law enforcement and never had she heard anyone speak like this before. "We have no right—"

"We have every right," Petit interrupted, coming to a stop in his pacing and whipping his head around to face her. "We are the law here and lawlessness can't be tolerated. So long as those bridges are gone, we have to be tougher than ever before. Zero tolerance on any criminal activity."

"We do not have the right to kill them!" Sawyer practically yelled back.

"If it bothers you this much, get the hell out of here and let the men handle this," Petit snapped back, gesturing wildly in a random direction.

"At least use rubber, not lead," Sawyer tried to persuade. She was not about to give up and leave those people to Petit's mercy, regardless of whether they were panicking innocents, or opportunistic looters. Someone needed to be a voice of reason here.

"Forget it. Remember, we're under martial law, and they are all violating curfew. All rights they had ended the second Hady put his signature down." Petit spoke with finality in his voice; it was clear he wasn't about to change his mind any time soon. Beginning to move again, he began speaking into his radio once again. "Everybody get ready, we're all about to move in. Again, lethal force is authorized. Don't even give a single inch to any of them."

* * *

_Stick the landing, stick the landing._

Ratty cape billowing behind him, the ground rushing up at an alarming rate, the dark-clad man ignored his screaming survival instinct as he chanted over and over how important the landing was.

His feet touched down on the asphalt, a violent jolt running up and down his legs. Yet, he was still standing, his cape flowing downward until it hang from his shoulder.

_Oh yeah! Stuck the—!_

"Ow!" Bat-Joker shouted as he hopped from one foot to the other. Oh God, the pain! No one mentioned anything about pain after doing a superhero landing! True, he didn't land with one knee to the ground, but still! That needed to be mentioned in the manual!

The sound of rioting bystanders quieted for a moment, which pulled Bat-Joker out of his internal monologue. All around him, the rioters stared at him, some in mid-punch, mid-kick, and there was even two guys in mid-tackle. It was almost as if they were waiting for someone to do something.

Oh wait, they were waiting on him. Duh.

Immediately, Bat-Joker struck the superhero pose—you know, standing up straight with fists pressed into the hips. "Stop, you violent pedestrians! This city is under the protection of Batman and if you don't stop this wanton collateral damage, I'm gonna have to put the hurt on you!"

There was another moment of silence before the rioters began screaming at each other all over again. Halted punches and kicks restarted, hitting their intended targets. The two guys tackling each other went tumbling to the ground and began wrestling. All and all, it was a pretty nice-looking slobber-knocker.

Yet, this was all in ignoring the city's resident vigilante's demand.

"Oh, so that's how all of you want to play this!" he shouted before he pulled out some of his sharp, metal caltrops. He drew his hand back by his head, sending a few of the caltrops flying over his shoulder and behind him. Then he threw the rest of them forward, watching as they disappeared into the ground. That was when he heard cries of pain and surprise mingling within the raucous crowd.

Hmm, still the fighting was going on. What else did he have to stop this?

Well, he was sure there was something in his trusty utility belt. It had to be nonlethal, of course. It was a shame Horace was dead, he could've really used his trusty rubber chicken, God rest his rubbery soul. The crowbar was out of the question since it was still dripping blood from that kid the Joker had killed, so he wasn't quite ready to use that one again.

So it looked as if he would have to go by the old standbys. When in doubt, punch someone.

Making a fist with one of his hands, he stepped towards the closest rioter he could find. Using his free hand, he grabbed the guy by his shoulder and forcibly turned him to face him. Then he let the bloke have it, slamming his fist into the man's face, directly on his nose. It had the desired response of breaking the guy's nose as he cried out, his hands clutching at his bloody face.

Unfortunately, Bat-Joker's fist was _throbbing._ "Ow!" he exclaimed as he held his hand, trying to relieve the hurt he felt. Geez, you would've thought he was used to hitting people. Maybe he needed more practice or something because he was starting to think he had hit the guy wrong.

Oh well, he could dwell on that later. Grabbing onto the rioter's shoulder again, Bat-Joker decided to change tactics and pulled the man forward even as he raised his knee up. He rammed his knee into the man's gut, knocking the wind out of him. Feeling he was done, the vigilante shoved the guy away, causing him to stumble until he crashed into two grappling rioters, knocking them over like bowling pins.

Bat-Joker paused for a moment. If he was going to have to punch and kick his way through this scrum, it was gonna take forever. And he didn't have that much endurance to begin with. He needed to be smart about this. There had to be a faster way to do this.

That's when he caught sight of something. Between the struggling bodies, the vigilante caught sight of the cops cordoning off the area, no doubt to keep the riot in one place. However, that had given him an idea. A truly wonderful, legal idea.

He could mace all of these people!

Shoving a hand into his belt, even as a rioter went flying by him, he rifled around the pouches until he came to the disappointing conclusion that he did not have mace. He had found a taser, but it was certainly no mace. Bat-Joker held the taser out in front of him, staring at it blankly even as he turned it on and saw bolts of electricity dance between two extended metal points.

Now what could he do with this?

A rioter bumped into his side then, having stumbled backwards from someone punching him in the face. Lazily, Bat-Joker pressed the taser into the side of the man's neck, instantly causing him to shriek before he dropped to the ground in a heap. A noticeable wet spot was beginning to from on the front of his pants, no doubt because he was pissing on himself.

What could he do with this taser…?

That's when a thought occurred to him. He had a taser! He could tase someone with it! Excellent! As long as someone didn't shout for him not to tase them, bro, then he was in the clear. Immediately, Bat-Joker shuffled to his right, then his left, looking for a rioter, only to be surprised when his left foot knocked into one lying on the ground with a big wet spot on the front of his pants.

Huh, wonder what happened to him.

* * *

"The fuck?"

Officer Wilson thought he felt his jaw fall open, but then again, with a sight like this, who's wouldn't?

Decked out in body armor sans a riot shield, he was but one of many officers armed and ready to put this riot down and down hard. The order to use lethal force was loud and clear. And while Wilson had managed to get himself psyched up for what was going to be a shitty experience…

...that did not involve someone in a homemade Batman costume announcing his arrival and then attempting to end the riot himself.

The concept wasn't surprising. It wasn't the first time a civi had tried such a stunt.

"Are you seeing what I'm seeing?" Rodriguez asked from beside him.

"I think that's the Joker. It...sounds like him," someone else spoke up.

They watched dumbly as the costumed lunatic tased a rioter and stand there for a moment before rifling through his belt, completely oblivious to the violence around him. "Where can someone find anything useful in this damn belt?" the masked, pale madman grumbled, his voice somehow audible over all the noise.

To the cops' horror, the Joker pulled out a ridiculously large gun with a barrel so wide that it was impractical. "Now how did this get in here?" the Joker exclaimed before tossing the weapon carelessly to a side. As it stuck the ground, the gun went off and an explosion rang out further down the street sending rioters flying away from the detonation. "Sorry about that! Was an accident!" was the shouted apology, a gloved hand waving in the air and in the direction of the trail of smoke.

"Hey, this could be our chance. We could put an end to this son of a bitch," someone suddenly said, and Wilson immediately picked up on it.

Yeah, they were authorized to use lethal force, weren't they? Wouldn't it be something if that murdering bastard happen to fall in the line of their fire?

"Second Bill gives the go ahead, get the son of a bitch," Wilson growled as tightened his grip on his rifle.

There were some agreements, the officers now eyeing an oblivious Joker like a pack of wolves. Payback was going to be so sweet.

"_All officers, you have the go to engage. Show these people who's in charge here,_" Petit's voice spoke through the radio receivers.

* * *

Barbara had to admit, she was a little nervous. She had eyes just about everywhere on the crowd of rioters and the damage they had done. She also had eyes on the police presence too, how they had surrounded the area, not to mention the SWAT vehicles stationed closed to the back. That was a lot of itchy trigger fingers aiming guns at all of those people.

From what she could tell, SWAT was gathered right at the barricades the police had set up, which put them front and center with clear shots at the rioters. That was an issue and one the redhead was counting to come to a head soon.

However, there was something else going on. There had only been a flash of it and she had lost sight of it shortly there after. It was something black, of that she was sure of. Unfortunately, whatever it was had landed in the crowd and was blending in too well for her to identify it.

"C'mon satellite, don't fail me now," she muttered to herself as she zoomed down on the riot from a bird's eye view. The zoom in feature would zoom in for a second, then pause so as to let the image clear up, then repeated itself again. Of course, Barbara was constantly tapping on the down arrow button on her keyboard, which was forcing this jerky zoom in to continuously repeat.

Eyes darting to one of her other screens, this one with a good view of the police and SWAT team, she only paid it a moment's glance before looking back to the satellite feed. By now it was practically on top of the rioters and she was going to have to—

Wait, what was going on with the police?

Looking back to the other monitor, Barbara had to analyze exactly what she saw with a critical eye. If she wasn't mistaken, it looked as if SWAT was moving around the barricade and was ready to take on the rioters.

Oh crap.

"Oracle to all points," she immediately said into her mic. "SWAT is about to engage the rioters. Watch out for live fire."

* * *

There was an art to a good entrance. It needed to be dramatic, attention-getting. Sometimes, the right words made it something truly special.

And sometimes saying nothing at all would do just fine.

Dropping through the air, the cable Green Arrow hung onto suddenly went taunt. He went into a downward swing even as he held onto the cable tightly with his hands. Leaning back, he stuck his legs out in front of him, keeping them pressed together.

His feet slammed right into the chest of a SWAT member, the force of the collision sending the man flying backwards, where he crashed into two of his friends.

That was when Green Arrow let go of the grappling cable and landed on the ground even as the three SWATs ended up as a heap of body parts on the pavement. The Emerald Archer didn't stop to make a witty comment, or amusing remark. Instead, he pulled out his bow from behind his back and went into a spin, kneeling down as he did so. Extending out the bow, he nailed another SWAT member with the bow against the back of his knees, the man crying out as his knees buckled and he pitched over backwards.

And that was all he was able to do before the rest of the SWAT team had their guns pointed out and aimed right at him.

Normally, Green Arrow would have gone into a cold sweat. This wasn't the first time he had been in a situation like this—though it was a first with the police. However, unlike then, he was pretty confident not a single bullet would touch him.

The moment the SWAT officers pulled their triggers, something came exploding out of the barrels. Bouquets of flowers bursted out, baffling the men even as the flowers' stems clogged up the weapons.

See? He knew that would happen. Well, he had hoped it would happen. It was just like magic, after all.

That was when several sharp projectiles came whirling through the air, striking the hands and guns of the SWAT officers, causing them all to cry out and drop their weapons. A moment later and the black form of Batgirl came dropping through the air. Almost as if she were in some choreographed dance, she lashed out with her legs and a fist at the right moment, her feet kicking the faces of two officers while her fist ended up slamming into the throat of a third. She did all of this midair, horizontal to the ground. In an instant, she twisted her body so that she landed with her legs underneath her, crouched.

Immediately, Green Arrow had an arrow notched to his bow, the archer pulling back on the bowstring as he took aim. Letting go, he fired the arrow over the head of Batgirl, the arrow racing passed two SWAT members and then striking another officer right against his chest. Due to the body armor he wore, the arrow merely pierced into the kevlar instead of impaling him.

From the end of the arrow was a cord, one that was firmly held in Green Arrow's gloved hand. Grabbing it with his other hand, Arrow yanked as hard as he could on the line, pulling the officer right off his feet and flinging him forward. This caused him to ram right into the two officers in their backs, sending all three of them to the ground in a pile.

Now, this might seem odd that a vigilante, such as himself, was fighting police officers. But here was the thing: these guys had live ammunition and they looked as if they were about to shoot up a lot of people. Never mind those people were causing some damage to the surrounding area, no one should be killed for that. So here he was, making sure none of these trigger-happy yahoos didn't make a really bad mistake.

Rule 1 of the Gotham vigilante community: no killing—ever.

"Push forward!" someone shouted, that someone being a SWAT officer as Green Arrow found out when he turned his head to search for the voice. The man was waving his arm back and forth, gesturing for SWAT to engage the rioters. "Push forward!"

In an instant, Green Arrow had a trick arrow notched to his bow. Taking aim, he fired it, the canister at the end breaking apart as a boxing glove inflated in its place. A moment later and the boxing glove slammed into the SWAT commander's face, knocking him to the ground.

Yeah, they didn't need any of that idiotic banter, thank you very much.

Unfortunately, too many SWAT members had heard the order and were doing as told, pulling away from the line of police cars and moving towards the crowd of rioters.

"Hey, I think we're going to need some help here," Green Arrow said over his comm link.

"_On it,"_ came Zatanna's voice. "_Just keep them really close to you."_

Well, that was easier said than done. Seeing Batgirl darting out in front of an officer and kicking out one of his legs, the girl finishing the man off with a chop to his neck as he fell, the Emerald Archer felt he had to at least make an attempt.

"Ahhhhhhh!" someone shouted, causing the blond-haired man to jerk around. Running at him while holding his rifle up by his head, leading with the butt of the gun. The reason for not firing the weapon was because of the flowers sticking out of the barrel. Clearly the officer wanted to smash the end of his gun against Arrow's head.

Yeah, that wasn't going to happen.

Taking a firm step towards the charging man, Green Arrow raised a foot up, then snapped it forward, timing perfectly his front snap kick, which collided with the officer's stomach. Immediately, air was forced out of the man's lungs as he gasped, stopping in his tracks as he bent forward.

Suddenly, the sound of small explosions rang out into the air. They were rapid-fire, going off within the span of a second or two. However, they weren't on ground level since Green Arrow didn't see any smoke, or debris being hurled through the air. No, it came from up above and he tilted his head back to look.

He found the smoke immediately below a large billboard, which was swaying back and forth. There was the sound of protesting metal as it was twisted and turned and the billboard leaned too far forward. That was when it broke off its stand and came falling down towards the street.

"Everyone, get out of the way!" Green Arrow shouted even as he pulled his leg down and then lunged at the cop in front of him, tackling the man back towards the police cars. Several feet behind him, the billboard landed right on the street with a great, deafening crash, causing pieces of asphalt to break and crack. There was a groaning sound, but miraculously, the billboard stayed vertical, standing right up into the air.

More importantly, it was right in between the police and the rioters.

"Well, that's comforting," Green Arrow said as he held himself up on his knees, head turned so that he could look at the billboard. Glancing back at the cop, he found the man still conscious, something he immediately rectified as he pulled a fist back, then threw it, ramming it right into the man's face. The back of his head bounced off the pavement, but his closed eyes indicated he was down for the count.

Getting back onto his feet, Green Arrow sought out Batgirl, finding said girl perfectly fine and moving to finish off a couple of police officers lying on the ground, who were lifting their heads up to look at the large sign sticking out of the road.

Something then came sailing through the air, moving into sight further down the street, but seeming to appear from what out from behind the fallen billboard. It was black and slowly descended through the air, heading right for the recovering SWAT.

_Man, I needed to get myself a cape,_ Green Arrow thought.

That was Batman looking very much like some sort of demon. His arms were out, cape in its glider mode, and he was coming right...towards...him…

Eyes widening, Green Arrow ducked, Batman sailing over his head even as he leaned backwards, extending his legs out in front of him. The Dark Knight's feet slammed into a cop that happened to be standing right behind the archer, sending him crashing to the ground.

By the time Green Arrow was back on his feet, Batman was next to him, the two standing back to back. A quick glance around revealed several of the nearby police officers hesitating, unsure of what to do against the two of them. Then again, maybe it was more about the imposing force of the vigilante behind him.

His ego preferred that hesitation was because of the both of them.

"That friend of yours is a little reckless, isn't she?" he commented after a moment.

"She knows what she's doing," Batman grunted back, knowing exactly who he was talking about. "We just need to make sure that billboard doesn't fall on anyone."

Well, that went without saying. "At least it's providing cover for the others. How do you think they're doing?"

"They'll be fine. There is one thing I have to do, though."

Green Arrow spared a look over his shoulder. "Then why did you stop here?"

"You looked like you could use some help."

He paused.

"Point taken."

* * *

"Aha!"

At last! He had found something that could work! While the taser had held promise, it wasn't getting the job done the way he wanted it to. A further search into his belt had given him some odd, if not unusual options, though that gun being in there was a surprise. He had tossed that one aside immediately, ya know, since Bats don't use guns.

But they sure as heck used baseballs bats.

Some violent citizen had dropped one at his feet a little bit ago, no doubt falling unconscious out of fear of him. Picking up the bat, he adjusted his grip, tightening it on handle. Oh yes, this would do just nicely.

Drawing the bat back, he then took a practice swing, only to hit a rioter against the side of their head, knocking them to the ground. Hey! That was great! Aside from the blood leaking out of their ear, they were perfectly fine and unconscious to boot! This was the perfect vigilante weapon!

And he hadn't even meant to do all of that with that one swing.

Doing a backswing, he hit another man in the face, causing him to cry out as he pressed his hands to his now-throbbing face. Letting a smile grow onto his face, he turned to fully face the man, picking up one leg so that he could kick him in the stomach. The man double-overed before dropping to the pavement, cringing himself into the fetal position.

"AaaaaAAAAAHHHHH!"

Well now, that was a strange scream. Spinning around, Bat-Joker found a man lying on his back, a faint sheen of black soot on his face, body twitching. Hmm, if he didn't know any better, that rioter had taken a hefty dose of electricity. His hair was even standing on ends to further confirm that thought.

There was a flash of color then, and Bat-Joker spotted a woman in red and yellow darting through the crowd, using something long and then to trip and hit the rioters with. He didn't get a good look at the weapon, or club, or whatever it was because the...hmm, yes, that was a woman...the woman was moving pretty damn fast.

However, he did spot another woman falling through the air in all purple. Arms extended at about shoulder height, her feet slammed into the face of one of the rioters, knocking him right off his own feet and sending him crashing to the ground.

Eyes blinking, Bat-Joker began slowly turning around in a circle.

Somehow, someway, he wasn't the only costumed person on this street. No, there were more people in colorful dress and they were fighting the rioters. There was a guy in blue and black...and over there, some blonde chick in fishnets. There was someone in all pink, which was a odd choice, but who was he to talk? Heck, they all were making pretty quick work of the mob too. More and more of these people were dropping like flies with every punch and kick delivered. Now where had these people been hiding? They could've been helping him out all of this time and they chose now to do something? What, had they needed to be inspired?

Bat-Joker paused.

_Gasp!_ Could it be? Had...had..._he_...inspired them to come out? Holy sidekicks! He had! An entire army of vigilantes had seen him at work and realized just how much good he was doing! They wanted to help!

He truly was Batman now.

"Yes. Yes! Go out, my fellow nighttime folks! Beat these nasty, no-good, bad people and make them wish they had stayed good!" Bat-Joker shouted, continuing to spin around in a circle, admiring their work, their dedication. He saw every punch, every kick, every grapple, and every throwdown. He wanted to see it all, so he kept spinning. He wanted to see—

The black fist rushing in and slamming right into his face.

Pain exploded in his face, Bat-Joker yelping as he fell to the ground, landing roughly on his back. Hey! What was that for? Did he just get hit by friendly-fire? C'mon, junior vigilantes! They needed to get their act together. And now his face was hurting and throbbing, especially his nose. They just had to aim at his nose. No doubt there was blood coming from it and the pain radiating around it—

Wait...wait...this pain. It was familiar. Too familiar. He...he knew this. The way it radiated out from a central point, the size of the impact site from the fist told him just how big it was.

"I know that fist!" he exclaimed as he jerked his head up.

He wasn't disappointed either. Looming over him was the form of a man in black, white eyes glaring down at him. Familiar horns jutted out of his head, a cape wrapping around his body, hiding it from sight. A chill ran down Bat-Joker's spine.

"Batsy!" he cried out, throwing his arms out, ready to hug and/or strangle—he didn't really know which to do, to be honest. He was just so happy. "It's—!"

And suddenly Batman raised a leg and kicked it out, ramming the bottom of his boot right into his face. The blackness that overtook him did nothing to calm his joy, not that he could feel it anymore.

* * *

The wheels rattled even as they rolled. That was in part thanks to the cracks in the street, causing the stretcher to bounce and shake.

And strapped to the stretcher with leather restraints was the Joker, his mask removed and exposing his face. Unfortunately, he was awake too.

"Hey! Watch the bumps there, buckaroos! I bruise easily!" The madman looked this way and that, searching the street for something.

Or more like someone.

"Oh, Batsy! I know you can hear me! I know you're out there and back in black! I can't tell you how overjoyed I am! Now, I know you just got back and you have, like, a million things to do, but that's okay! I can wait my turn! I'll have my people get in touch with your people and we'll get together for some brunch! Or a late afternoon snack! Hell, we can even just have a fifteen minute coffee break, my treat! Batsy?"

"Shut up, you psycho," one of the officer's moving his stretcher growled, stopping as the stretcher reached the back of a transport truck.

The Joker ignored the guard. "Call me!" he shouted as he was lifted up and slid into the back of the truck. The two guards plus an extra two jumped into the back as well, the doors slamming shut behind them.

From atop a rooftop, Batman stared down at the scene. The riot had ended more or less after the Joker was knocked out. It was as if the rioters had stopped at the sight of him before dispersing in any direction they could run. As for the GCPD, It had taken some time to get them under control, namely sidelining SWAT. They were cowboys to begin with, but trying to convince them they weren't needed with the riot petering out had taken some serious effort from the level-headed officers. Cooler heads thankfully prevailed.

It also helped that Green Arrow and Batgirl had taken to cracking several more of their skulls.

And yet, there were some mixed emotions about this. For instance, there was something sickening about seeing the Joker dressed as him. There was no telling where he had gotten the costume considering it looked homemade. It was wrong, all wrong.

What the hell had happened while he was gone?

"Well, I'd say this was a success," Zatanna said next to him. She was looking over the wreckage caused by the riot as well as what resulted from their intervention. The billboard she had dropped into the street was still standing, a couple of cops staring at it nearby, scratching their heads. "The riot was stopped, no one was killed, and the Joker is off the streets. It doesn't get more productive than that."

"I'm sure we made some new friends with the police," Green Arrow added, the green-clad man leaning forward, using his bow to prop himself up. "Surely they appreciated us kicking their butt."

There was going to be an issue with that eventually. Considering how gung ho SWAT was, no doubt the more aggressive officers had taken control with Gordon trapped outside of the city. It would take some time to get them back on their side.

Until then, "Some people need to be reminded how we do things here." Finally, tearing his eyes from the scene below, he turned to look at his fellow vigilantes. Everyone from the Birds of Prey to the Batclan were present and were all looking at him expectantly. "And if that reminder requires force, then that's what it's going to take."

"I'm sure they'll love that," Huntress snorted. "So what's our next move?"

"A short patrol," the Dark Knight answered. "Word is going to spread about what happened here. That should stop some other possible break-ins, though none of the cons. Four teams, three to a team; we take different routes, different areas of the city. Two hours, we rendezvous at the bunker for debrief."

That was when Batgirl appeared at his side. "I'm with you," she said quickly.

A gloved hand fell onto his shoulder opposite the teenage girl. "Same," Zatanna quipped cheerfully. "I think Black Canary, Huntress, and Nightwing can make up the rest of the teams."

Batman couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the magician's antics; yet, he couldn't see any fault with her suggestion. "See you at the bunker," he said before he turned and began walking along the edge of the roof. It wasn't long after that he heard Huntress and Canary begin making team assignments.

The night was still young and Gotham was still hurting. There would be some people willing to hoard as many resources as they could, taking from others in an attempt at survival. Supplies were limited, however, and violence would only escalate as necessities dwindled.

And he would be there to put an end to it.

* * *

To Guest: I'm not sure what you're getting at


	4. Serious Progress

The forks of the forklift slid easily into the small gaps of the wooden pallet. A pull of a level and the forks began to raise the large crate that rested on top of the pallet. With a loud beeping warning, the vehicle began to reverse, moving back before surging forward towards a large eighteen wheeler.

This was but another in a shipment recently smuggled into Gotham in spite of the recent quarantine. For Cobblepot, it was proof that he was more than capable of keeping the Santa Priscan forces supplied with whatever their leader desired. For Bane, it was confirmation that he had selected his black market supplier correctly.

"I 'ope that everythin' meets your expectation," the diminutive man spoke, speaking around the cigarette holder that was held in his mouth by clenched teeth.

"We will see," Bane stated, arms crossed over his chest as he observed his men. None took a second to look in his direction; they all knew what they needed to do and that idleness would not be tolerated.

Blowing out some smoke, Cobblepot commented, "This is some pretty specific materials that ya wanted. Makes me a bit curious on what you want to use it for."

"Save your curiosity. I have no need for you to be aware of my plans," the masked man snapped, eyeing his supplier.

"O' course, o' course," Cobblepot was quick to say, holding up a hand. Then hastily, "since we're right here, I'm thinkin' 'bout the next shipment. Tell me what's on your wishlist and I'll see 'bout gettin' it to you."

It was a very obvious attempt to change the subject while insuring his continued use to the Santa Priscan. Clearly, Cobblepot was trying to save his own skin and so long as he remained useful, Bane would allow it. However, that "curiosity" was something to keep an eye on.

People who were curious tended to create problems when there was no need for them.

"I will continue to need more of these materials. Continue to bring me more and do not ask any further questions lest I answer you with my hands," Bane told him. "Just as important, I will need to feed my men, so more rations, more edibles."

"Nothing worse than a starvin' army," Cobblepot grunted.

"I will need fuel for my vehicles as well," the masked man continued, ignoring the commentary. "In the coming days, food and fuel will become premium resources. I will not find myself lacking in that respect."

"Naturally. I'll pass it on and get you everything as soon as possible." For once, that unplaceable accent did not make it an effort to understand the shorter man. "One more thin': you still need guns, or just what you mentioned?"

"The weapons and ammunition shipments will continue, no interruptions."

"Very well. If you'll excuse me, I'm goin' to get right on this." Cobblepot's shuffling feet gave away the man's departure, but Bane ignored it as a meaningless detail. Again, there were more important matters, such as delivering the materials that Tetch had requested. Following that, he needed to discuss with Zombie and Bird what his next move would be.

Of note, there was a cell that hadn't been responding lately. Located in several cheap apartments, and strategically situated in an area of low-income residents, it was going to be a base of operations for another tightening of his grip on the city. That there was no word from them set the masked man on edge.

Could it be that al Ghul's latest means of retaliation, that woman assassin, had gotten to them? Or was it that maniac impersonating the Batman again, sticking his nose in business he had no reason to be involving himself in? Whatever the reason, the loss of this cell was starting to weigh on him if only for the fact that he was bleeding manpower now.

Whereas before he could handle a loss here and there; his forces now were becoming stretched too thinly. Each loss was felt more and more.

It only added to his mounting frustration. Gotham should have been conquered by now; why was he still trying to suppress resistance? It was as if the city, not the people but the actual city, was resisting him, throwing everything it had to stop him. And damn it, it was working. Bane's goal of domination only seemed further and further away no matter how hard he clawed and fought to reach it.

That he was placing all his trust in one of the native crazies exposed how desperate he had become. Everything else, including his new recruited assassins, were smokescreens to obscure and hide what he was truly planning. All it would take would be the wrong pair of eyes with the wrong pair of lips to reveal his duplicity.

No, he could not, and would not, continue on this train of thought. He was Bane, and whatever he wanted, he took. He conquered and crushed, giving no mercy to anyone that got in his way. Nothing had ever been given to him with the exception of his name. He had to earn his strength, his intelligence, his very freedom.

If he could conquer Peña Duro and seize power in Santa Prisca, this fattened and slothful American city would prove no different, no matter what obstacles were put in his way.

Standing straighter, Bane pressed forward, emboldened by his internal pep talk. Logistics and plans were forming in his head and all needed to be put into motion.

* * *

The air in the GCPD was charged, there was no other way to describe it.

It was something that Sawyer recognized, a feeling that was common among law enforcement back in Metropolis whenever Superman appeared to save the day. In that city, the "charge" was positive, cops empowered by the fact that they had a guardian angel in blue watching out for them and taking care of the threats too great for them. The example given was one that made them want to do better, the darker elements burrowing deeper so as not to be seen by that same force of good. Yes, even Metropolis had some corruption in its law enforcement, but when dealing with a hero that could hear practically everything, that corruption had a harder time of doing its deeds.

Gotham was not Metropolis in that respect. The corruption was not a surprising thing; it was the response to its own protector where the biggest difference could be seen. Sawyer was of the mind that it was the responsibility and duty of the police to protect and serve, and administer justice whenever they could. Sometimes to bring forth that justice, you needed to be open to any and all options, no matter how distasteful they were. As long as you did everything you could—by the book naturally—on your end, then it didn't matter how a perpetrator was caught.

It was why she was willing to look the other way when criminals—be they murderers, mobsters, rapists, or super-criminal—were apprehended by a vigilante, by all accounts a criminal himself. She had seen the value in the Batman when working on the task force formed to bring down Harvey Dent, the costumed man helping to end an out-of-control crime spree and mob war in-the-making that had taken the lives of countless people. She understood why Gordon was only half-hearted in his "all vigilantes are to be arrested on sight" mandate.

So when the riot had ended and word of sightings of the Batman—or a new one—were doing the rounds among the men and women in uniform, Sawyer had been curious about what the department's response would be. Would it be similar to Metropolis, or the opposite?

To her surprise, it was a...mixed response. While there were those that were whispering about what they had seen, the more vocal ones were already condemning the sighting, Petit being the loudest one.

Of the whispers, there were, "Did you see him?" "Think it's a newbie?" "Bastard's back," and, "What do you think this means? Think we stand a chance now?" among others. There were some negative ones, like, "He should have stayed gone, if it's him," and "The hell was that asshole thinking, attacking us? We're the ones protecting the city, not him!"

However, there were also, "This was my first time, he was so fast!" "Did you see? It's like he never left!" "You really think it was him?" "I've seen him before, that was definitely him. Man, I think the cavalry's arrived!" as the main takeaways.

And then there was Petit.

"Who the hell does that bastard think he is? Did anyone get a shot at that son of a bitch? He's gone too far—_too far_—this time! _No one_ assaults an officer on my watch and expects to get away with it!" the SWAT commander roared.

Petit's ranting had managed to interrupt her thoughts there for a moment. Yes, she was staying silent, keeping vigil as Petit shouted up and down the station. There were those who were listening to him, getting riled and wanting to find any unlucky vigilante they could get their hands on.

"I think he's starting to repeat himself. That's the third time he's mentioned no one beating up a cop," a detective of African American descent commented from beside the blonde-haired detective.

"I'm starting to get a hang of all the Batman bashing; they tend to start repeating themselves about the same things with very little variation to it," Sawyer commented, keeping her eyes on Petit. "Do you agree with him, Allen?"

Detective Allen—she couldn't recall his first name at the moment—adjusted the thin pair of glasses he wore, his hand blocking sight of his mouth with the mustache-goatee brand of facial hair that he kept groomed. "I won't lie, it gets boring hearing the same thing over and over again. You would think after all these years, the anti-Batman faction would have new arguments."

A non-committal if she ever heard one. By now, she understood that you had to watch what you say in the department; those who tended to dislike the vigilante also happened to be resentful that a crime-fighting criminal had a better record of arrests than they did. Then again, the Batman wasn't susceptible to bribery and skimming off the top in order to make ends meet on an underpaid salary.

"He saved a lot of lives out there, lives that would have been lost thanks to Petit's heavy-handedness," Sawyer pointed out, throwing the words out there not on a whim, but as a means of fishing.

"That's what we're suppose to do, right? Save lives?" Allen quipped back.

Sawyer nodded. "You wouldn't happen to know anyone else who happen to share...similar thoughts?"

"There are a lot more supporters around here than you think. They just like to sail smoothly instead of rocking the boat." Allen was lowering his hand at this point, crossing his eyes arms over his chest.

"I think it's time that these silent men and women start getting organized. Whenever we win this thing, the outside world is going to look at what we did here and I will not let them condemn us because someone wants to pretend they're in Afghanistan," she stated boldly. "Superman is not going to come here and save the day, so we're going to have to do it, even if it comes from help that some would rather shoot themselves than accept the aid."

Deciding she had had enough of her hourly dose of Petit-watching, Sawyer moved away from her post and exited into a hallway. Traffic was light right about now so it was easy to head towards the Commissioner office and slip inside. Removing her cell, she dialed a number that she was starting to memorize by heart.

"_Talk to me_," Gordon's voice ordered after the first ring.

"Petit's been authorizing lethal force. We were lucky that outside help limited the damage tonight," Sawyer reported. "I've been trying to reign him in, but haven't had much luck."

"_We can only work with what we have. What else can you tell me?_"

"I think the Batman's back," she stated bluntly. "Someone showed up leading a force of vigilantes. They were highly-organized, quick, efficient, and from what I was able to see, highly-skilled. It's put the department on edge; there are those angry about it, but I've noticed not everyone is upset. There are those who seem eager, like this is good news."

"_Then see what you can do with that. I know I'm asking a lot from you right now, Lieutenant, but we need to make sure that the casualty numbers remain low. Both for the people and us._"

"I'll think of something." Sawyer was not going to complain about it, or insist that what the Commissioner was asking of her was too difficult. Already, she could see the number of ways this could go, and most of them were downright unpleasant. Petit didn't have the kind of force he thought he had; the weeks of nonstop war with Bane had taken its toll already. The injuries sustained from the riot was only going to compound that. "What's going on on your side?"

"_Nothing, and that's the problem. I'm going to see about getting something moving on this side of the river, so for the time being, you're on your own._"

So nothing new. She fully expected this. It was a good thing she already was forming a plan of action. Regardless of what she did, she was going to need to be careful because one wrong move and it stood the risk of dividing the department and now was not the time for that to happen.

"I'll contact you if something develops," the Metropolis transplant replied and ended the call. With nothing else coming from Gordon's end, there was no need to continue the call.

As things were, she felt that the destruction of the bridges was only the beginning. Next to come would be electricity and water. A fully charged phone was going to become a luxury in the coming days and it was best to get into the habit of restricting electronic use.

Hopefully, Gordon would be useful in preventing such a thing, but Sawyer had her doubts. Whoever was in charge of this mess could still make it so much worse.

In the meantime, she was going to do what she could on her end and that meant making sure Petit didn't go off the deep end.

That was going to be easier said than done.

* * *

Headquarters was secured to his liking. His personal quarters were acceptable for the time being, at least until something else could be secured. Seeing as the building itself had been empty for some time, its former owner having desired to remove it from their list of assets, the price that Talia had bought it for was agreeable.

That said, there were more important matters that Ra's al Ghul needed to concern himself with. The final oustal of Bane, preferrable deceased, was chief among them. However, he was a long term goal and for now was weakened by the Demon's Fang's efforts to defeat him.

This allowed a sort of dalliance to become the Demon's primary objective. The reason that he needed a new base to begin with was still on the loose and the epitome of chaos. His very presence, should he choose to unleash it, would be troublesome, a constant thorn in his side. Though Ra's knew when to ignore such thorns, this one had proven himself most disruptive.

Wonder Tower was gone in thanks to the Joker. His interference during the fight with Bane prolonged this conflict for the foreseeable future. These were unacceptable to him and required that he respond in turn.

Yet, he was not a foolish man. Though the Joker disguised himself as a fool, he was anything but. He had single-handedly caused massive destruction throughout Gotham, not to mention other cities as well. Then there was the fact he had successfully challenged not only the Detective on numerous occasions, but the Justice League itself, was also worth noting. The man simply rose to the challenge of his opposition rather than be cowed by it.

Were this any other occasion, Ra's would have offered his utmost respect. Seeing as the Joker could turn his attention to him at any time he deemed it, it was now a concern. His tarnishment of the Detective's mantle would focusing his efforts on Bane for the time being, so the clown would never see his knife coming.

Seated in a high back chair, Ra's eyed the man prostrated before him. This was the leader of the strike team assembled to remove the Joker as a player of the game in progress and he had just informed the Eternal Man that the team was ready for deployment.

"Be on your guard," Ra's ordered his pawn. "Do not take this target lightly. He is most erratic and has proven himself capable of reversing his fortunes. Strike only when he is vulnerable and not before. I care not for how long this mission takes you so long as you provide intelligence on the clown's movements and objectives."

"As the Master commands," the assassin responded, keeping his head bowed, staring down at the floor.

"I have no need to say what fate awaits you should you fail. Whatever sentence the clown deems necessary to dispose of you will be more favorable than what I will do."

"We will not incur the wrath of the Demon's Head, my Master."

"Go then. I await your success."

Immediately, the assassin stood up, bowing one last time before he turned and headed for the double doors on the other side of the room, the only visible exit. Two guards stood on either side of the doors, the men moving to open them to allow the approaching assassin's exit.

However, the moment the doors swung in, another man hurried inside, side-stepping the exiting assassin. Ra's eyes narrowed at the display of abruptness. He had not called for another audience.

"Forgive my intrusion, Master," the man said even as he dropped to one knee before Ra's, head bowed. "I have important information from the field."

"This had better be as important as you claim," the older man responded, his fingers wrapping around the ends of the armrests, their slight clenching the only other sign of his displeasure.

"Our source inside the Gotham Police has sent word that the Joker has been captured."

Ra's perked up at that news. Perhaps it wasn't important enough to be approached without announcement, but he was willing to let that slide in this case. His strike team could now head for the GCPD headquarters and eliminate the Joker without trouble.

"Your information is received," Ra's replied pleasantly.

"There is something else, Master. Our agent witnessed a man dressed as the Detective capture the Joker. He used the same equipment he has been reported to have used. The other vigilantes residing in the city have been seen rallying around him."

The eyes of the Demon's Head sharpened. Was this another copycat of the Detective? How many fools saw themselves as his equal?

"Is that all?" he pressed.

"No. He...he has reason to believe this is the actual Detective."

"What is his proof?"

There was a moment's silence, as if the assassin was gathering himself before answering. "The presence of the Detective's protege was seen at the Joker's capture. There were also strange...occurrences. The SWAT team's weapons were all rendered useless as if by magic."

A jolt shot up Ra's spine, the aged man nearly shooting out of his seat to stand, though he stayed seated. The Detective's student had returned? And the possible use of magic indicated the presence of the witch he had taken into his confidence was present as well. Those two things, as well as the sighting of a man in the Detective's mantle…

It couldn't be.

Was this truly the Detective?

"How can this be possible?" he heard Ubu ask to his right, his manservant obviously coming to the same conclusion as he had.

"I do not know," Ra's admitted, his mind a flurry of thought. He had not expected the Detective to return, not at this early date. Eventually yes, but by then it would be too late for him to undo his mechanizations on this city.

This complicated many, many things.

"Recall the strike team at once," Ra's then ordered, steeling his resolve. "Leave the Joker in the hands of the police."

"But why, Master?" Ubu demanded. "He is now helpless in their hands."

"Not necessarily," he replied, ignoring Ubu's impudence. Though he had come to the same conclusion as himself, he was missing what this latest obstacle meant. "The Court of Owls once tried to assassinate the Joker while in custody, only to inadvertently release the clown. If this is indeed the Detective, the Joker will resume his obsession with him and that is too much of a wildcard for the game currently in progress. It is better that the Detective removes him from the board, even if it is temporary in the long run. There is no telling what the Joker could and would do if he were to become desperate to settle his score."

Let it not be said that Ra's did not learn from history. He was well aware of the Talon Attacks the Court of Owls committed, targeting the most influential of Gotham's citizenry, including the monsters like the Joker. That the man not only killed the assassins and escaped his cell, but he did so while using his calling card of Joker Venom was remarkable. No, it was best that the Joker spend time recovering from whatever abuse the Detective had administered. That would keep him out of play until the war with Bane was concluded.

However, things were much different now. Ra's held no delusion that the Detective would oppose him once he became aware of the Demon's Fang's presence in the city. Most likely, he already knew and was plotting at this moment.

Yet, there was doubt within the Demon. It had only been a handful of months since he had been injured and vanished. Was he at full strength? Ra's doubted that very much.

It seemed he would need to test the Detective and determine just how strong his resolve was.

* * *

"We're dropping one off. Make sure the psycho doesn't get loose again, capiche?"

The Joker sighed. Whatever excitement and joy he had been feeling had worn off during the ride to the dump he was currently being wheeled in. Melancholy was the best word to describe how he felt right now.

Batsy was back. The very thought still left a warm spot in his stomach. He was back and as strong as ever. He had even stopped to personally arrest him, his first action since coming back. That spoke to some incredible level that he just had to come to him, his bestest best friend in the world.

His only friend.

But now, he was out of the game. He would willingly give up his role too, because being Batman was harder than he had thought. Really, he had to give it to the man, he did so much. It was really eye-opening to him.

Oh well, he would just have to take that into account when he made up his next plan. Couldn't make things too easy for the brooding lug after all.

It was someone else's turn though, and the Joker would wait. He needed to rest up, actually think of something worthy of his bestie, and then make sure he had the vigilante's attention all to himself. There were still a lot of bad guys running around after all.

And if one of them put an end to Batsy, well, let's just say they would be receiving a cyanide pie to their face.

"Welcome back to Arkham, Mr. Joker," a youthful voice greeted him. Dragging his eyes away from the dull ceiling above him, the Joker looked down his restrained body to a blonde woman standing several feet away, a clipboard clutched to her bosom. The stretcher he was on drew closer and closer to her.

"I do say, you look familiar," he said, his voice dull and lifeless as he finally reached her, the blonde doctor beginning to walk with him and his armed posse. "Tell me, Doc, what's on today's agenda?"

"Nothing other than returning you to your cell," the woman responded. "Though I can assure you there have been new safeguards placed to ensure you don't repeat your latest escape."

Oh, goody. Something for him to pass the time with.

"Tomorrow, we'll begin your therapy sessions. I'll be your doctor for that session as Dr. Meredith is on vacation."

"And who would you be, my dear?"

The doctor raised a hand up to brush a few strands of hair out of her face and place them behind an ear. "I am Dr. Quinzel."

Oh, right, the intern who had been annoying Strange before he left. Heh, that old windbag had been trying to set them up for awhile now, no doubt one of the quack's latest schemes against Batsy.

Hmm, now there was a thought.

The Joker looked back up at the ceiling. "Tell me something, Doctor: have you ever had a bad day?"

Dr. Quinzel, Medicine Woman, glanced at him from behind her glasses. "I suppose I've had a few. Who hasn't?"

"True, but what I mean is have you had a really, _really_ bad day?"

"I don't believe I understand."

The Joker looked to the woman, seeing them pass by an intersecting hallway. "That's the kind of day where everything goes wrong. Just when you think it can't get any worse, it does and then some. It's the end result of countless bad days strung along together, and then BAM! It's the cherry on top of the shit sundae you've been eating."

"I don't suppose I've had one of those days. I believe this is something we can discuss in greater detail during our therapy session tomorrow."

"Oh, I'll be looking forward to it." The Joker again turned his head to look back at the ceiling, ignoring the light fixtures as they passed by every few seconds. His bland expression began to twist, eyes beginning to light up with life as a smile stretched out over his face.

"In fact, I expect to make some _serious_ progress."

* * *

To Guest: Oh, I had forgotten about that. Thanks!

To FlackAttack: Well, here's Ra's reaction. More to come! As for Bat-Joker, as far as I know that hasn't appeared in canon, be it comic, cartoon, or live-action. Bat-Joker was completely developed by myself and Anonymous Void. That said, if anyone has soon Bat-Joker in other media, definitely let us know. I'm kind of curious to see another take. That and to give proper credit.


	5. A Rabbit's Foot For Luck

_A newt's balls, a griffin's claw, eyes of an eagle, aaaaaaand a rabbit's foot just for the hell of it._

_Dumping the ingredients one at a time into the cauldron, Zatanna couldn't help but admit that at times like this, she could see why sorceress like herself were called witches._

_She had tried every way she knew how, magically and physically, but she had come up empty-handed in her search for Bruce. How far underground had that jerk gone anyways? Her magic couldn't find a trail, which was incredible. Eyewitnesses were even fewer, though that part wasn't a surprise. Yet, she couldn't find any evidence the man had left Gotham in spite of her magic at least confirming that much._

_So now she was here, in Madame Xanadu's backroom, mixing all of the ingredients needed for a more powerful locator spell. The swirling green fluid within the caldron was giving off a rather rotten smell that permeated the room. Zatanna rather doubted Febreeze was going to be able to get the smell out entirely._

"_Alright, I think I have everything," the dark-haired woman said as she dangled the rabbit's foot above the caldron._

_Xanadu was staring at the white, furry foot. "I'm unfamiliar with this locator spell," she said, eyes glancing up to the younger woman before returning to the rabbit foot. "What is the purpose of the rabbit's foot?"_

"_For luck, mostly."_

"_...you cannot be serious."_

"_Hey, I'll take whatever I can get. If I have to use a lucky talisman to do it, then so be it."_

"_Why don't you use a four-leaf clover? I understand those are symbols of good fortune," the fortune teller replied snidely._

"_I would if I could find them. They were even harder to find then the griffon claw, I'll have you know."_

_Xanadu stared at her. "I wasn't being serious about that."_

"_Yeah, I kinda caught onto your sarcasm," Zatanna said even as she dropped the rabbit's foot into her swirling spell. "Now, if you wouldn't mind, I'm about to get underway."_

_The older woman merely nodded, taking a step back as she watched from afar. Feeling that her mentor was surrendering to her mechanizations, Zatanna steeled her resolve and held both of her hand above the caldron. "I call upon the spirits of earth and air to reveal the chosen and make their whereabouts known."_

_Yeah, yeah, she wasn't saying it backwards. The invocation for this spell was just easier said forward than backwards. For proof, a green light was filling the room, glowing out of the mouth of the caldron. "Batman, thy friend seeks you out. Show yourself!"_

_The green light began to swirl around the room, spinning faster and faster, keeping up the pace with the liquid within the caldron. Zatanna stared hard into the vortex as it slowly became black. "Show yourself," she urged. "Show yourself!"_

_The darkness slowly began to change. She saw a room, sparsely filled. There were a few tables and...was that an ambulance in the background?_

_Unfortunately, she couldn't see Bruce within the image. He must have just left, or something_—_at least, that's what she hoped. Sometimes, magic was just too inexact._

_However, this was her best lead and she wasn't going to let it go. "I'll be back, Xanadu," she said, right before she dove headfirst into the caldron. She didn't hear if the fortune teller responded or not since everything went black around her. A moment later and smoke rushed all around her, slowly starting to dissipate._

_The magician found herself in the room her locator spell had shown, though there was more detail now. She found a door lying on the floor, looking as if it had been blown right off its hinges. There was also this large, bulky man lying on the floor with...whoa, was that blood coming from his eyes?_

_Zatanna stared at the unconscious man for a moment before she turned her head away. As it turned out, it was a good thing she had as she saw a whirling black object flying right for her face._

"_Ezeerf!" she immediately cried out, stopping the object in midair. Ice formed around the projectile, icicles extending downward from it. Apparently she hadn't been specific enough for her spell to simply stop it, so ice had formed. Staring at the frozen object for a moment, she soon recognized it as a batarang._

_Well, at least she knew she was in the right place._

_Movement caught her eye and she saw something rushing at her. No, make that someone. Zatanna's eyes widened as she saw a smaller, thinner version of Batman running at her. Leaping into the air, they went into a flying kick pose, leading with their foot as they flew towards her._

"_Pots!" she intoned as she gestured with a hand, the Bat-dressed person halting in the air. Zatanna stared at the person, eyes probing their form and dress._

_It took her a moment, but she came to realize this person was a girl. She was young, or so her eyes told her. Perhaps late-teens, early-twenties. However, the Bat Symbol on her chest was surprising. In fact, the Batsuit was actual armor reminiscent of Bruce's, save for all of the yellow and the creepy, full-face mask._

_Who the hell was this?_

_Moving to stand at this "Batgirl's" side, Zatanna held up two fingers and flicked them back and forth. This caused "Batgirl's" head to turn to look at her. Now that she was getting a better look at her, this looked like that girl she had seen in the Batcave when she summoned the Cave's memory. "Alright, I have a few questions for you," the sorceress said, her tone brokering no argument. "And you will answer them. For starter's, tell me who you are."_

"_Batgirl" didn't respond to her, only starting at her from behind the black lens of her cowl. This would have annoyed Zatanna had she not recalled she had frozen the girl in midair. This likely included stopping her from speaking. "Kaeps," she ordered._

"_I will not tell you a thing," the girl immediately said, which didn't faze Zatanna at all. This wasn't the first time she had come across an uncooperative source and it wouldn't be the last._

_She had ways of dealing with people like that._

"_Trust me, you're better off telling me what I want to know," Zatanna told the girl. "As you can tell, I can do things your Average Joe can't. All I have to do is say the words and you'll be telling me about your first grade school crush and the last time you wet your bed."_

"_I have never wet the bed," the girl seethed._

"_Sure, tell yourself that. We've all done it."_

_The girl just stared at her in turn._

"_Why don't you tell me where this place is?" Zatanna suggested then, gesturing out with a hand to the room they were in. "I'm sure that should be okay…"_

_She trailed off then. As she had gestured with her hand, she had turned her head to look around the place again, only to spot a table surrounded with what looked like medical equipment. There was a man lying on it, still as a statue._

_Staring, Zatanna slowly began to walk towards the table, only stopping when she heard, "Don't!"_

_Turning her head back around, she could see the floating girl trembling, as if she were trying to fight her way through the spell restraining her. Focusing her mystical energies, a blue aura began to surround the girl, randomly growing dimmer and brighter around her body. "Emoc," she said, the girl beginning to drift towards her._

_Returning her attention back to the table, Zatanna resumed approaching it, coming to stand next to it. "Batgirl" came to a stop a short distance behind her as well._

Oh my God. _Zatanna's eyes widened as both of her hands shot up to cover her mouth. The man on the table, that was Bruce, and he looked...oh God._

_He was bruised all over. The scars that normally decorated his body were just barely visible as the bruises had begun to finally fade. Slowly, she reached out with a trembling hand, reaching out to touch Bruce's face._

"_Don't touch him!"_

_Zatanna ignored the warning. Her hand caressed Bruce's check before sliding upwards, her fingers getting entangled with his hair. The entire time, the dark-haired man didn't so much as respond._

_What happened to him?_

_A tear ran down her cheek as she focused solely on the man before her. She had seen him hurt before, in agony_—_emotionally and physically. She had even experienced the horrible time when everyone thought he was dead. This, though, this was too terrible to imagine._

_Whipping around, Zatanna glared right at the girl behind her. "Tell me what happened," she demanded angrily. "I have to know. I need to know. What happened to Bruce?"_

_The girl seemed stunned before she softly replied, "How...how do you know him?"_

_That was not what she wanted to hear. "I'm asking the questions here and it's high time you tell me what I want to know before I get _really _angry."_

_There was another moment of silence. "Can we trust you?"_

_Trust? She wanted to trust? Zatanna was about to unleash every truth-telling spell she knew when the question dawned on her. This girl, she was _protecting _Bruce. Even in a precarious position as she was, she refused to answer any questions of her, her main concern still with the unconscious man lying on the table._

_Raising her hand, between then, Zatanna began to lower it, the girl slowly dropping to the floor in response. Her body moved as well until she was standing on the ground, though the blue aura was still firmly around her. Though the dark-haired woman had changed her position, she was not ready to release her from her spell._

_Seeing as they were at a standstill, perhaps someone needed to take a leap of faith here, if only to get to the main issue here. "My name is Zatanna Zatara," she introduced herself. "And if Bruce was awake, he would say that we've known each other for a very long time."_

"_And you've come to...help...him?"_

"_As well as anyone can help him, assuming he lets you. He's never been good at letting people help him."_

_Zatanna wasn't completely certain, but she thought she could make out a smile forming beneath the girl's mask. It seemed some things never changed. "What do we do now?" she asked._

"_Well, it's pretty clear Bruce needs medical attention and he's not getting it here. We need to_—"

"_No hospitals."_

_Zatanna hesitated. "Huh?"_

"_No hospitals," the girl repeated. "There are people after us and if we go there, they will get him."_

"_I hate to break this to ya, but I think they already caught up with you." At this, the dark-haired woman nodded towards the other unconscious man in the room. "And I'm not even sure who the hell that is. So we need a plan and it can't be what you've been doing so far."_

_That seemed to make the girl hesitate and uncertain. "I...I'm unsure."_

_And sitting here wasn't an option either, wherever here was. If Bruce was awake, he'd say as much too. Raising a hand, she placed it on "Batgirl's" shoulder. "Look, I get you don't want to put Bruce in any more danger than he already is. We can't stay here." She paused. "I think I know a place we can go, if only for a couple days. We can plan our next move there."_

_It took a moment, but the girl slowly nodded her acceptance._

"_Good, now let's get out of here."_

* * *

Since his absence, the vigilante community had come together. It was impressive considering the number of egos involved, but perhaps necessity was the ultimate motivator. Calling themselves the Network, they had fought against Bane and the other interlopers that had taken to the city like a plague.

Standing at the head of the table, Batman stared at the Network, all of whom were looking to him. Their activities as of late were coming from him rather than their own reactionary tactics, which left them looking to him as a leader. The transition had been practically seamless; yet, he could sense the growing anticipation for when they would strike out.

Now wasn't the time for that.

Perhaps the Network's biggest mistake was its tendency for self-preservation. They moved as one group into a battle, only then splitting up. That was a poor use of allocating manpower and that was one thing that would change. First he needed a better idea of what everyone could do before he would make such assignments.

"Before we go any further," Black Canary said, drawing the attention of the room to herself. "There's something we all need to discuss."

Her blue eyes focused on him, which only told the Dark Knight that he was the source of whatever needed to be said. "Ever since Bane took over, it seems as if your enemies have been coming out of the woodworks. Strange, the Phantasm, a guy called the Scarecrow—and now this group called the Demon's Fang. Strange and Phantasm seem to be out of the picture for now, but there's still the matter of the Demon's Fang and your connection to them."

Batman resisted the urge to grimace. He hadn't thought the Network would've discovered his involvement with Ra's and his assassins. Hell, he was alarmed the man had such a vested interest in Gotham. Obviously there was more to what was going on than what had been presented thus far.

"That's right," Huntress agreed as she turned her head to look at the dark-clad man. "This Ra's guy said he was going to protect Gotham for you and has done nothing but create a bloodbath. How do you even know a person like that?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Zatanna staring at him, a questioning look on her face. It wasn't because she wondered the same question so much as how much he was willing to explain. Tilting his head to gaze at her, he gave a slight nod of his head, which only caused her eyes to widen.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" she asked him immediately, which caused confused looks to appear on some of the Network members' faces.

"Everyone here has been through a lot," he replied to the magician. "They've proven they're willing to protect Gotham; they deserve answers." He then looked to the rest of the group and internally sighed.

This wasn't going to be easy.

"I first came into contact with the Demon's Fang before the Great Gotham Fire. They had been watching me for months by that point, for what I don't know. Then the Joker tried to burn the city to the ground."

"And you decided to take a long vacation," Huntress finished for him.

"That isn't what happened. That night I fell to my death while fighting the Joker. Zatanna," he then held a hand out to the dark-haired woman, "can confirm this."

The silence that fell over the group was stifling. "Excuse me for not believing that, you know, since you're standing right in front of us," Manhunter said then, not bothering to hide her skepticism. "Hell, you're body wasn't even found in the aftermath."

"That's because the Demon's Fang recovered my body shortly after," Batman replied evenly. "They took me to a place outside of the city and attempted to revive me. They were successful."

"Revive you how?" Manhunter pressed.

"It's called a Lazarus Pit," Zatanna answered for him. "It's a pit full of chemicals and who knows what bubbling in it. It's practically toxic to living things, but it has the power to resurrect the dead." She then nodded towards the Dark Knight. "He's living proof that it works."

Katana's head perked up at this, though she didn't say anything. Batman didn't miss this gesture, refraining from pointing it out. Clearly something made sense to her and he was content in allowing her to figure out the puzzle in her head. "Unfortunately, the process was...rough. I lost my memory and was taken in by the Demon's Fang. I was retrained to be one of their assassins."

"Which explains why you fight like an assassin," Katana finally spoke, earning a nod from the dark-cald man.

"So, you stayed with these guys for three years?" Nightwing questioned then. "What caused you to leave?"

Now, he had a choice to make. Either he could tell them all the full story, or only mention the end. Studying each and every face looking to him, Batman steeled his resolve. After everything they had been through, they deserved to know the full story. He had said as much at the beginning, so now wasn't the time to change course.

"My last assignment for the Demon's Fang was to study the strengths and weaknesses of various heroes that could be detrimental to Ra's al Ghul's latest plan. Ra's is firmly convinced that humanity cannot be saved, no matter what he says to the contrary. At the time, he wanted to flood the world with Lazarus, killing as many people as possible."

There were gasps from around the table. "Why would he do such a thing?" the young Bluebird asked in shock.

"To restore the planet back to a lush, green environment. Seeing that humans have done so much damage to it, he sees our removal as the only option left. Of course, any hero was viewed as an obstacle to his plan."

"You mean like Superman?" Nightwing inquired.

"Superman, Wonder Woman, the Flash—everyone that would go on to form the Justice League."

"And you were tasked with studying them?" Black Canary pressed.

Batman nodded. "I did and came up with a number of protocols to neutralize, if not terminate them. Impressed with my...initiative, Ra's allowed me to put them into action. They were successful."

There was a stunned silence then. Unlike the previous one, this one seemed to stretch far past being comfortable. It wasn't until Zatanna confirmed what he said. "I was there, so I can confirm that much."

"What were you doing there?" Huntress demanded.

"Wrong place at the wrong time," the magician shrugged.

"So then what happened?" Manhunter pressed.

"I was then sent to Gotham. I'm sure you know what happened then."

"You're talking about when the Joker tried to blow the city up for the second time?" Red Robin responded then. "I can remember him calling out to you over loudspeakers. You mean he was actually calling out for you?"

"Yes. The Joker discovered my amnesia and was determined to re-enact the Gotham Fire in order to force me to remember." The looks he received at that ranged from startled to incredulous. The sad part was, he actually understood the mad clown's thought process to reach that point. "The presence of the Justice League prevented that as you know. It wasn't until later my memory was restored and I helped the League put a stop to Ra's plan. That was just before I returned to Gotham."

"Global genocide and amnesia," Green Arrow remarked after awhile. "I gotta admit, I wasn't expecting that." He then leaned forward in his seat. "And those protocols of yours, do you still have those?"

"Why would that matter?" Huntress snapped at the archer. "How would knowing any of those be helpful to us now?"

There was a small part of Batman that was pleased by Green Arrow's interest in his countermeasures. Considering the archer's future self's involvement with his trip to the future, that proved promising. The two vigilantes were going to need to have a private discussion later.

"I'm only telling you this due to my connection to the Demon's Fang," Batman agreed with the purple-clad woman. "My plans to take down the Justice League aren't imperative at the moment. What is, is Ra's intentions for Gotham. He's not here for altruistic reasons. He came here for something specific, maybe even Bane himself. We need to figure out what and why he's come to Gotham."

"And how do you plan on doing that?" Huntress interjected. "We've had our hands full with Bane and Strange and Phantasm, not to mention the GCPD is fully against us."

"I'll worry about Ra's. The Demon's Fang is full of highly-trained assassins on the level of the Talons, if not better. Not everyone here is capable of fighting off those kind of opponents." At this, he eyed Red Robin, Bluebird, and Spoiler, the latter of the three hanging her head slightly as if confirming to herself his words. "And that isn't even including the Seven Men of Death and we better hope Ra's hasn't brought them in."

"Seven Men of Death?" Green Arrow repeated. "Why does that sound like a bad kung fu movie?"

Zatanna openly snickered at the response. Batman...wasn't going to bother going into the details of just how powerful Ra's Elite Assassins were. Considering the group's defeat at Nanda Parbat, Ra's surely sought out even more powerful fighters by now. That was the last thing they needed.

For now, though, they had other things to discuss.

Blatantly ignoring Arrow's remark, Batman then said, "I trust you'll keep this to yourselves. You're the first that I've told; that isn't something to be taken lightly." He paused to allow his words to sink into their heads. "Now, we have other matters that need to be discussed—namely the presence of the National Guard quarantining Gotham."

* * *

No matter how long it had been, the distance that lay between them, her heart still pounded when he was near.

It had been that way when he had been at her side and in her bed. Time had not changed that now.

There was still the distance, but the miles had shrunk considerably. They were in the same city now and her desire had grown immeasurably.

"He's here."

Talia shook herself out of her thoughts. She stood in a room, the first one she could find for a moment of privacy while she reeled in the feelings that had threatened to overwhelm her. It was sparsely furnished, though that was possibly because her father's men had yet to install the required decor. She hadn't cared at the moment.

Looking to the door, she found...her child, a scowl permanently etched onto his face. It made him appear regal, refined even. There was a hint of petulance as well.

"Damian," she spoke firmly.

"Mother," he replied evenly.

Damian took a step towards her, and then another, closing the gap between them. "I've heard the news. He's returned."

"So have I," she responded in turn.

"When do I get to meet him?"

"In time," she assured him.

Damian's scowl hardened. "I don't want to wait any more! I want to meet him now!"

Talia grew more stern. "Now is a difficult time, Damian. We are at war with a powerful enemy. We cannot allow a distraction, no matter how tempting, to divert our attention. In due time, we will meet."

"I have waited far too long as it is! I must meet him!"

"And you will. I too wish to see him, more than you can possibly know." She held a hand out to her child, cupping the side of his young face with it. "There will be a time where our vigilance is not required. In fact, I believe—"

Damian stamped his foot, interrupting her. He jerked his head away from her touch, much to her surprise. "You always say that! I'm sick of it!"

"Damian," she snapped warningly, her eyes hardening. "Have you learned nothing? Your grandfather will be most disappointed in your behavior were he to see it. If there is one thing I have learned, it is to be patient. All things come to those who wait for the right opportunity. Now you will obey me. Do you understand?"

The boy did not back down; however, he did not continue to argue. Talia was certain he was aware of his standing, though he was too stubborn to lose face. In that, he was very much like her Beloved.

Unfortunately, he perhaps exceeded her Beloved in that regard.

"Do you understand?" she repeated again. She had to hear with her own ears her child's acceptance.

"Fine, I'll stay," he muttered awhile a long while. "But I have to see him soon."

A warm smile appeared on her face. "I promise, you will meet him."

"Soon, Mother, soon!"

"I've already promised you. Now go to your quarters. There is still much preparation that needs to be done."

Though sullen, Damian left the room, which left Talia to her thoughts. It was going to be difficult keeping her charge, but her words about patience were no less true. She had waited far longer than her child for this impending meeting.

And if she could wait, then so could he.

* * *

The top of the crate was pried open and allowed to fall to the floor carelessly. Peering down into it, Bird found himself confused at the contents.

The hell was all this shit?

Normally, Bird wouldn't be bothered to handle this stuff, but Bane had wanted to assert himself over all aspects of their operation. Personally, the American thought it was a waste of time, what with the guys they paid being stupidly loyal that it was borderline insane. Anybody trying to skim anything off the top was unthinkable for them since Bane was seen as a living god. Who the hell stole from God? Exactly.

Still, there was a reason for this order. Even after all this time, Bird continued to find himself trying to keep up pace with what Bane was thinking. He was in a league of his own and the best thing to do was go along with him.

Which brought him to one of the warehouses at the pier. The ship they had sailed on was just a little ways down and in eyesight should you leave the building, so yeah, this was a place that was fully under their control. Everything in here had started off as weapons and all the fun toys they had brought along from Santa Prisca. Unsurprisingly, the large room was not as full as it used to be when they had first started.

Police raids on another warehouse and general usage were the culprits here.

In order to start shoring up their resources, Bane had okayed asserting control on the streets, turning them into "toll roads" where they would pretty much take anything of value from anybody driving down them. That's where this crate came in; a few days ago during a "toll," this wooden box along with several others had been taken from a truck that forgot to pay its fee. It was only now that it was getting any attention and that was to see if any of what was taken could be of any use.

What they found was a lot of stuff that no one here knew what to do with. To Bird, it looked like...well, he couldn't really put his finger on it. The fact that there were labels that had long ass words on them only made his head hurt just by looking at them. Were those even words in the first place? Seriously, what the hell was this stuff?

Whatever it was, it came in a bunch of small, hand-sized canisters which were held together with packing wrap. Recalling his knowledge of where the truck was stopped and trying to map out what all was in the area, the Gotham native still came up with a blank.

"What do you want to do, Señor Bird?" one of the men asked.

Bird blew air through his lips, letting them flop about while he tossed the canister back in with the rest. "I don't know. We should get Zombie over here and see what he can make out about it. Whatever it is, I bet it's right up his ally. 'Til then, box it back up and move it to a side."

From his experience, whenever there was anything that had long names attached to them, Zombie was the one to consult. For all the blond man knew, these were materials for...something. Christ, now his head was starting to hurt more.

Why couldn't he be doing something that involved some action instead? Like giving the cops a good hit and really grinding them into the ground? Something useful like that instead of inventory.

Turning his back on the crate and ignoring the guys who were picking up its lid, Bird began to make his way over to another part of the room when something caught his eye. Coming to a stop, he frowned and looked over at whatever it was, his eyes widening as he saw a cloud of smoke billowing over a stack of towering crates. What, had a fire started?

"Hey!" he called out, snapping his fingers at the nearest mercenary. "Someone put that out before—"

"Bradley Colossimo."

The deep, ominous voice cut him off, causing Bird to jump and spin around, searching for wherever it had come from until finally he returned to that cloud of smoke. However, there was something different about it, like someone was standing in the middle of—wait. That was a smokescreen, not a fire!

The smoke began to wisp away, revealing the figure it hid. The first thing that came into view was the gray-colored cloak and hood. The second was the skull-esque mask that peeked out from under the hood, empty eyes staring him down, hollow.

Several of the mercenaries placed themselves between the blond American and the intruder, some cursing as they did so, but not firing. It was as if something was weighing down on them, preventing them from aiming their guns and shooting the bastard.

Like they were hesitating…

Then the masked intruder said, "Your angel of death awaits."

If there was any fear, or hesitation, it was gone now as Bird snarled, "Like hell!"

As if a button was pressed, the mercenaries did what they should have done before and opened fire. The hooded asshole surrounded himself with that smoke again as the first bullets began to pierce it. Bird even joined in as he pulled out a pistol and fired into the cloud.

Eventually the smoke began to wear away, as if it had never been there. The gunfire stopped immediately but no machine guns were lowered. One mercenary climbed up onto the stack of crates, surveying the area quickly.

"Well?" Bird called out, already emptying the spent clip from his pistol and reaching for a full one.

"Nada! There's no one here!" the man exclaimed, looking over his shoulder to the rest of them.

"That's impossible!" the blond man exclaimed, eyes darting from side to side. "Not after all that firepower—!"

He cut himself off as he heard something hit the floor. Snapping his head to a side, he barely spotted the metal ball bouncing into the air right before it detonated and released more of that smoke from area, only this time it covered a large area and quickly too. Bird was unable to stop himself from breathing some of that stuff in and coughing as a result.

"Everyone! Get out of—" His coughing interrupted him, forcing him to match words with action and try to get himself out of the smokescreen. That bastard, when he got his hands on him…

There was a cry nearby, and Bird cracked open watering eyes that he hadn't known he closed. That had sounded like one of the men.

Then out of the smoke, a Santa Priscan mercenary appeared, his gun absent. It took Bird a moment, but he spotted the torn open throat and the blood that gushed out it, maggots seemingly eating into—where the hell had those disgusting things come from!

The mercenary collapsed, falling down into the smoke and disappearing from sight. No sooner had that happened when there was a second scream, followed by a third. Something wet slapped against his cheek, and when he pressed his hand against whatever it was and held it in front of his face, he could have sworn it was blood. By then, the smoke was beginning to clear away, falling below head level and allowing Bird to see the heads of the other mercenaries.

At least, that's what he thought they were, but they looked like walking corpses, all rooting and disgusting and suddenly dropping down into the smoke below them with a choking cry. Alright, he had no idea what was going on, but he needed to get the fuck out of here. Something was wrong, really wrong here.

His balance seemed to be sapped, though, and disorientation made him feel nauseous. Because of that, he stumbled over something and fell onto the floor—no, correction, he landed on the body of a mercenary. Long gashes cut through the man's body where _things_ were already feasting and making Bird feel even sicker than before.

This was like a goddamn nightmare!

His legs were suddenly yanked out from underneath him, and the next thing Bird knew he was rushing up through the air, and into the rafters. His ascent came to a stop, but he found himself frozen, dread filling up his insides. The intruder hovered in front of him, fire flaming out of its empty eyes, smoke billowing out of crude gaps where it mouth was supposed to be. Its face was gigantic and seeming to grow bigger and bigger until his entire eyesight was filled by it.

Needing to look away, Bird found his head was falling upwards...no, down because he was hanging upside down and floor below was very far away. How was this even happening?! Staring at the floor so far below him, he was able to see the bodies of the mercenaries and goddamn, that had to be every single one of them laying down there. Were they all dead?

But how? These were trained killers! Some of Santa Prisca's best! How was this possible?!

Bringing his head down—or was it up?—he faced the intruder once more and demanded, "Who are you?"

Like an ass, the intruder didn't answer. Instead he spoke, "I need you to give a message to Bane."

Even though his heart was pounding in his chest and blood was making his head heavy, Bird found it in him to narrow his eyes at the frightful sight. "That's what this is about? You think you can take on Bane?"

Just that thought seemed to make his mind clearer, even though the scare factor on this guy didn't go down. No, Bane was the scariest person Bird had ever known and no one and nothing was going to change that.

"You're nothing," he spat, pushing back his fear. "Bane's going to chew you up and spit you out. I don't know what you did back there, but you're going to have to do better than that. There's nothing that Bane can't do."

The flaming-eyed bastard leaned closer. "Can he stop gravity?"

Bird blinked his eyes, the bastard's words not making sense to him. "What?"

"The only way you can be saved is if Bane can stop gravity," the ominous voice stated.

"But…" It was all starting to click in his head. Quickly, he looked down to the floor below then back to the nightmare. "But it'll kill me!"

"A messenger does not need to be alive to send a message," the hooded intruder replied.

Bird's eyes were widening as his heart beat sped up. The implications of those words were reaching him and the sense of invincibility he had felt ever since returning to Gotham. Standing side by side with Bane tended to do that. Now, that invincibility was being stripped away and left mortality was left in its wake.

"If Bane cannot stop gravity, then he is nothing more than an ordinary man," the intruder continued. Was it him, or did it look like there was a mouth opening up that was filled not only with more fire but very, _very_ sharp teeth?

"You—"

Whatever he was going to say, he did not know, because gravity asserted itself and he was falling down to the floor far below. For a man that always prided himself on keeping a cool head and being not only the smartest guy, but one of the toughest guys in the room, he screamed in terror was he fell.

He screamed until he could scream no longer.

* * *

Appearing beside the corpse of Colossimo, or Bird as he was known as, the Phantasm gazed down at the dead man dispassionately. The body was broken, bones piercing through skin, and splattered puddle of blood pooled around it.

The impression it had of the man was one who was arrogant and full of himself. He thought himself strong simply by being associated with someone else.

None of it had mattered and instead of facing death with dignity, he had...what was the phrase?

Ah yes, screamed like a bitch.

The Phantasm shook its head. Enough commentary. There was still a message that needed to be made and like it had said, the messenger did not need to be of the living.

Removing its bladed hand, it uncovered a slim hand that wore a latex glove over the skin. Crouching down, the Phantasm dipped its fingers into the blood.

* * *

Zatanna's locator spell is right from the Justice League cartoon when she's trying to find Circe. Obviously the subject is different, but the words are there verbatim.

To FlackAttack: I wasn't aware of that one, mostly because I never saw that Batman show. I remember seeing the designs and not being much of a fan. That and any animated Batman has to have Kevin Conroy. I can't watch any over version without feeling underwhelmed.


	6. Save The Power Plant

Holding the styrofoam cup that a certain vigilante had left with him, Gordon kept post close to the command tent, sipping on the dwindling amount of coffee that the cup held. It had been refilled several times by now, the Commissioner doing his best to keep himself caffeinated in case there were any new changes.

It had paid off. About an hour ago, a small group of men had arrived and the white-haired man immediately picked out that there was something different about them. They were decked out in body armor and carried several gun cases with them. It was nothing that didn't stand out among the National Guard, but a simple look would reveal that all the gear was a level up compared to the troops.

He had kept his eye on them, predicting where they were heading. It wasn't hard to do that; he had long memorized the layout of the unofficial campsite. The command tent was the only place of note they could be heading to based on the general direction they were heading.

It was simple enough to make his way over there without being obvious and picking a place where he could listen in. One could say it was eavesdropping, but he had a feeling that he would not be welcomed over there, what with how Eiling was asserting himself. It was a good thing then that the General tended to be overly loud when he got excited so listening to him wasn't a problem.

"...time you got here, Colonel. So far everything has been going according to plan and we're moving on to the next phase," Eiling greeted. "I could really use your expertise in this matter."

Whoever this colonel was, he wasn't as loud as Eiling. He was saying something, that much Gordon knew, but with his back turned in the general direction of the Commissioner, being able to get even a clue about this man was proving to be a bit challenging.

"Glad to hear that, son," Eiling said. "Give me your opinion. With our intel in mind, do you think an incursion into the city is possible?"

"...thing is poss...er, I...off for the time being. The op...ready for anything. It would be...if we weaken...increase our chances."

He was only catching every other word, but what he was able to get, it sounded like he was advocating for caution. At the same time, he was giving assurances that he was prepared. The most important part involved weakening; could it be that those two were talking about Bane?

The colonel must be part of a strike team then. Unlike himself, and Eiling it seemed, this colonel knew more about what they were up against and was wanting to put all the odds in his favor.

"I'm not happy to hear that," Eiling stated. "We've already taken out all the bridges, all the ones that weren't destroyed beforehand. This isn't a situation we have leeway to maintain for very long."

"We'll be shutting down communications to buy us time," the colonel retorted, speaking loud enough that Gordon was almost able to hear every word that time. "But we'll need to do more. Bane may…" _Oh no, do not lower your voice...damn it._ "...off from...sources...starvation will...so long...speed it up."

"Already have something in mind," the general said. "My boys have been able to identify this plant as the primary source of electricity for that part of the city. We can cut the power off and then really see this bastard squirm."

Even with the colonel not being reliable when listening for anything, Eiling was more than making up for it. Gordon's grip on his cup tightened, almost squeezing it out of shape. He needed to remain in control and focus. Now was not the time to let his emotions get the better of him.

"That's something I can handle," the colonel stated, volunteering himself. "Give me the...make sure that...off."

That pretty much cinched it, even if he only heard every other word. His fears were being realized; the Guard was going to shut off power to the island.

"Make sure you get back here as soon as you can, Flag. We'll need to plan what comes next after this," Eiling was saying as Gordon began to move away. Knowing these military types, they weren't going to stick around for very long and the Commissioner didn't want to give away that he was listening in on them.

What could he do? How could he get word to someone who could do something about this? Officially, he couldn't do anything because that would be insubordination, especially since higher powers were now in charge and he wasn't one of them. That would mean he would have to get word to his allies that could do something, specifically Batman.

But how? How was he going to contact the vigilante when he was out of reach and hadn't left any way to reach him?

As he passed a garbage can, Gordon tossed his nearly empty cup into it. Immediately after, he came to a stop and took a deliberate step backwards. Peering down in the trash, he zoomed in on the cup he had just thrown away. He could have sworn that when he had pitched it, there had been something that stood out against the white styrofoam.

There, right there was his cup, and attached to the bottom of it was a small, black, bat-shaped...thing. Not the best description, but Gordon knew about the Batman's methods enough that that tiny bat there was more than what it seemed.

Reaching down, he picked the cup up long enough to remove the bat-shaped object from it and hide it in his hand. Letting the cup fall back into the can, Gordon pressed forward and when he had put some distance between himself and everyone else, he took a closer look at his little discovery.

It was smooth, not quite metal, but definitely had a metallic quality to it. Turning it around and back, he puzzle at the find. There was a reason why Batman had left this attached to the bottom of that cup. Perhaps there was a use for it? It had to be because he was expecting the Commissioner to find it at some point.

Taking a gamble, he spoke to it, "I don't know if this is some kind of radio or what, but if you're listening, you're going to want to get to the power plant northwest of the city. The Guard's planning to shut all power and if you're thinking what I'm thinking, the last thing we need is several million people losing their minds the second they lose power."

He felt a bit silly, but at the same time hoped that his suspicions were correct.

In any case, it was best to hedge his bets. Regardless if anything had been set into motion, he wanted someone he knew to keep an eye on those men. That person would have to be able to tail them without being spotted and be able to keep this hush-hush while searching for hard evidence of anything that Gordon could use.

As much as he didn't want to, he knew he would be needed here and that left only one other person. Hopefully Sarah wouldn't object too much.

* * *

In two vehicles did the team set out for the Gotham City Power Plant. The hydroelectric power plant was the place that supplied the city of Gotham with the majority of its electrical needs, including the portion of the city that resided on the island that was now cut off.

It was Rick Flag's job to cut that power off. Why this hadn't happened yet, he did not know and chalked it up to a bloated bureaucracy that was slow to move. Regardless of his opinion, this was something that needed to be done if the crisis in Gotham was to be ended.

Up ahead was a megalith of a structure, large smokestacks ventilating the plant and releasing continuous large clouds of waste into the air. Outdoor lights lit up the multitude of buildings that seemed to wrap around the smokestacks cancerously, producing an enormous amount of electricity while using the waters of a nearby lake as coolant. As a result, it caused the waters of that lake to warm, so much so that residents of Gotham would use it too cool off comfortably without freezing themselves during the summer.

All of that was part of the intel Flag had on the place, and as their vehicles pulled up to the large gate that cut off the plant from the main road, he readied the documents necessary to enter the restricted area.

Without fanfare, they were allowed in, though their presence made gate security nervous. He and his team were armed and wearing protection. They even wore their protective helmets, visors up for the time being.

As the driver pulled up to the main entrance to the power plant, a man in a dress shirt and tie was already emerging from the building. That had to be a manager or a formal operator, definitely not a simple worker. Good, this would speed this trip up.

As he emerged from the car, Flag held up the documents as the manager began to inquire into what was going on.

"This is an order from the President to shut down operations here," he said immediately. "Your cooperation would be appreciated, but is not necessary. Either escort myself and my team to where we need to go, or stand aside."

The manager accepted the papers and read through them, his ruddy complexion becoming redder the longer he read. "I don't know about this, um, Sir, but…"

"What's it going to be?" Flag cut in, intolerant of the man's hesitation. "One way or another, this plant is closing down."

Looking up at him, the manager swallowed before saying, "Right this way…"

* * *

The group of armed men entered into a large room full of machinery and equipment, much of which were enormous in size and gave off a consistent hum. All were active, thus requiring the use of earbuds if one wanted to protect their hearing. Various workers stopped momentarily to rubberneck the group, dividing their attentions from their jobs and the unusual sight.

Not that Nightwing blamed them. In retrospect, shutting off the electrical grid to the city was an obvious next step and it was a wonder why it hadn't occurred until now. Maybe someone in the National Guard was a sadist and wanted to take away every luxury the city had one at a time.

All the vigilante knew was that he got a call from Batman who ordered him to head out to the plant and protect it at all costs. He would meet with the others that could be afforded to spare when he got there. Nightwing briefly wondered how the Dark Knight found out about this, but wasn't about to ask questions. If Batman was saying an attack was immanent, then it most likely was. At the time, Bluebird had been nearby and once she heard what was going down, she demanded to come along too. She used her qualifications as an electrician to worm her way in and only under the condition that she did not put herself in danger did he allow her to tag along.

When they reached the plant, Huntress and Manhunter were arriving too. A couple heavy hitters, meaning that Batman wasn't playing games. This was going to be a nasty fight they were heading into.

"Christ, I did not get into this to fight some soldiers," Huntress muttered from beside him.

"We didn't get into this for a lot of reason, but here we are," Nightwing quipped back. "Whether they know it or not, they're going to turn a powder keg into the next Gotham Fire, and we can't let them do it."

"This isn't going to be a cakewalk. If they're army, they've all been trained to kill. They're not going to take any beatdown sitting down and can dish back what they take," Manhunter pointed out. She gripped her new staff tightly, not out of anxiety, but anticipation.

"Which means we'll have to hit them hard enough that they stay down," Huntress said, stealing the words out of Nightwing's mouth without knowing it.

"There's about eight of them," Bluebird remarked, walking up next to them and peering through the set of windows they were looking through. At the moment, they were squirreled away in an office of some kind, camping out until their targets had arrived.

"You know the drill, Bluebird; your job is to make sure that no matter what happens, they don't shut this place down," Nightwing stated. "Let's assume they're going to do whatever it takes to accomplish that; we gotta out-think them and make sure that whatever they do will mean nothing."

"Head over to the main console, you know, the big switch that keeps this place on. Protect it at all costs," Huntress recommended. Yeah, you'd be surprised that some of the things in this world were controlled by the simplest of buttons. In this case, it was a single button that if pressed would either turn off or on the entire plant. The machinery would run independently, but no power would be leaving.

"We'll make sure you're not bothered," Manhunter added.

"Time to get their attention?" Nightwing asked as he readied his escrimas.

"Let's...not bust through the windows," Huntress recommended, giving a grimace. "No sense giving them a chance to use those guns they have. Let's get close, then surprise them. Bluebird, used the commotion to sneak past and do your part. We'll make sure none get that far."

With Huntress' reasoning out there, it was silently agreed on to follow that plan. Slipping out of the office, they used the machinery and surroundings to their advantage, ducking behind the machines as the group of vigilantes snuck towards their armed prey.

Manhunter was the first to strike, swinging her staff out from around a corner and striking one of the armed men in his knees, effectively tripping him and delaying any kind of counter strike he could make. The man stumbled one step, then two, before he fell to the floor.

To their credit, these men—wait a couple were women—were quick to respond, already whipping up their large military-grade rifles. A flurry of H-shaped shuriken were sent flying to knock their aims off, metal clashing against metal as the guns were knocked to a side; unfortunately, none of the commandos were disarmed. Then from behind came Nightwing, swinging away with his escrimas and their voltage turned up high. Two of the soldiers let out cries as electricity seared into their bodies from blows to their back and heads. Unfortunately, those blows weren't enough to finish them off.

That was mostly due to their training as well as the person in command. "Regroup!" the apparent leader of the squad shouted, letting loose controlled bursts of machine gun fire. Nightwing was quick to take cover a couple other squad members added their fire with their leader's. Showing some battlefield experience that was definitely a notch above what Bane had fielded, they didn't direct all their firepower towards the only male vigilante here; they also targeted Manhunter while a couple kept watch for Huntress.

At the very least, none had seen or detected Bluebird yet, so that went according to plan.

"I count three enemy hostiles," the leader stated out loud. "Status?"

Several replies of, "Same," answered his query

"Split up, find that switch and make sure it stays off," the leader ordered. "If you encounter a hostile, terminate them."

"Yes, Sir!" were the collective replies, and like a well-oiled machine, the group split into threes, one with two members, and the other two with three.

For the vigilantes, they had perked up at the order. At least, Nightwing knew that he had recognized the opportunity for what it could be. Already weary of the order and skill this group possessed, that they were dividing themselves meant that it decreased the risk of the vigilantes themselves coming to harm. Not that the risk was totally gone, but it meant better odds.

"Any preference on who gets who?" the male vigilante asked, using the earpiece to communicate to the others.

"_Just pick one and go after it. Adapt if we double up, but don't let any of them reach Bluebird,_" Huntress replied,

"_I'm_ _going after the ones that went north,_" Manhunter declared. If he wasn't mistaken, three had gone that way, leaving Huntress and himself to pick between the other group of three and the pair.

Already, he spotted Huntress heading off after the second group of three, which left him with the pair. Guess he wouldn't get to really show what his skills were made of, but if he was quick, he could catch up with the others, or join with Bluebird.

Alright, time to act, not think. Zeroing on where his pair had darted off to, he went in pursuit.

* * *

The sound of gunfire echoed throughout the place. Keeping low and behind the large generators, Bluebird hurried through the large room. She held her taser rifle in front of her, ready to be used at a moment's notice. It was more likely than not she would have to.

Coming to the end of one of the generators, the blue-clad vigilante slowed to a stop. Peeking around the generator, she saw no sign of the commandos that were trying to sabotage the plant. Looking the other way to confirm she was all by herself, she then pressed forward.

Suddenly, a couple plant workers appeared up ahead, emerging from around another generator. They had their hands over their heads and were running as fast as they could towards her. Immediately, Bluebird twisted to a side, letting the workers race by her. They hadn't so much as paused to stare at her, or expect her to be one of the shooters.

Bluebird turned her head to look in the direction in which they came. There must have been a commando up ahead. Steeling her nerves, she hefted up her rifle and began creeping down the path, closing the distance between her and where the workers had first appeared.

That was when a commando darted into her sights. It was a woman and one with a machine gun ready to be used.

Immediately, Bluebird squeezed the trigger.

A blast of electricity fired from the barrel and raced through the air. The commando had no time to dodge as she took the blast head-on, screaming as she was shocked. Releasing the trigger, the electricity stopped instantly, allowing the woman to collapse to the floor, a smoking heap.

_Well, that's one down._

Bluebird didn't stay to admire her handiwork, instead pressing on. Stepping over the commando, she pressed on until she found small hallway. Entering it, she soon came up to a metal staircase, one that went upwards for about six or seven steps, then turned to the right. Climbing up the steps, Bluebird made the turn at the top and continued to climb up even more stairs.

Once she reached the landing, she found another door, one with a panel next to it. Lowering her taser rifle, she hung it from a strap across her shoulder. Reaching to her belt, she pulled out a screwdriver and went about loosening the the panel cover. It took several moments, but she managed to wedge it off, revealing a nest of wires and cables behind it.

Pocketing the screwdriver, she then pulled out a pair of wire strippers and went looking for a specific pair of wires, one orange and the other green. Digging into the mess of wires, she found the two she wanted and yanked them loose of their bindings. Stripping off the covers, she then cut them. Quickly, she bound the newly made ends, an orange to a green, twisting them together.

She then heard a small _beep_ and the door in front of her slid open. Quickly, Bluebird shoved the wires back into the wall and placed the panel cover back. Grabbing onto her taser rifle, she held it in front of her before she passed through the doorway.

And here was the main control center for the power plant. It was a good thing Bluebird had an idea about the lay out here—her job had once sent her here to do some wiring in the break room. It seemed odd that a power plant needed an outside electrician, but apparently the ones on-site were busy with something else and the city ordered her boss to send one of theirs. That had been a few years ago, but she was glad her memory of the plant's layout hadn't left her.

From here, the main generator was kept active. The ones she had passed on her way here were for other uses, namely funneling the electricity to the various city grids. Those could also be controlled here, but the main generator was her primary concern.

"Guys, I'm in the control room," Bluebird reported over her comm link. "No sign of—"

Suddenly, gunfire rang out behind her, causing her to spin around. There were sparks flying all over the place as bullets pelted the door frame to the room. Oh shit, the commandos had found the room.

Immediately, she darted to one side of the doorway, aiming her taser rifle right at it. She could hear the footsteps as the commandos climbed the metal stairs. The sounds grew louder and louder as they drew near.

And then she saw the barrel of a gun peek out from the doorway. Thankfully it was pointed towards the other direction, which meant the man holding it was facing that way. They were checking that corner and if memory served right, they would be moving further into the room as they checked the opposite corner.

Or at least, that's what the movies said they did.

Thankfully, it seemed this time Hollywood was right. As the gun whipped to point in her direction, the commando slid into view, partially, but she could see an entire arm, leg, shoulder, and part of a face.

Bluebird fired her weapon immediately.

The electric blast struck the man on the arm, but that was more than enough to cause him to stiffen. Instinctively, he yanked himself back through the door, but that proved to be a mistake. The small landing right outside the door was maybe twice the size of one of the steps.

That meant the man practically threw himself down the stairs. There was a cry coupled with a second one, followed by a lot of banging and bashing sounds. Instantly, Bluebird peeked around the doorway, catching sight of not one, but two commandos tumbling down the stairs. They had just reached the turn and awkwardly and painfully tumbled around it.

Well, hopefully they didn't break their necks, Bluebird hoped. Hitting a panel next to the doorway, the door then slid shut, closing with a hiss. Pointing the taser rifle, she then fired a quick blast at the panel, frying it and insuring it would take a lot of effort for anyone else to get in here.

Turning away, she then hurried over to the main console and began checking all the gauges and readings that she could fine. Perfect, everything was in working order.

Now all she had to do was hold the fort and make sure no one else got in here.

* * *

Boots pounded up the steps, causing the metal to whine with each pounding. In battle, whoever had the high ground had the advantage. Manhunter wanted to ensure that whoever these army guys were, they didn't have it. Nightwing and Huntress could weed them out on the ground floor, but she would make sure these guys couldn't pick them off from up here.

Reaching the top of the stairs, she found herself on a catwalk, one that stretched over the plant. Manhunter imagined it was the perfect spot for the plant supervisor to look over the workers.

And her hunch was right. Up ahead were a couple of the commandos taking up position along the catwalk. They were looking over the side, down towards the floor below, searching for the other two vigilantes. That made her frown. She had originally had gone after three soldiers, so she had lost one of the three she had been following.

_"This is Bluebird,"_ came the younger vigilante's voice in her ear. _"I've locked down the control room. Also took out two, maybe three of the commandos; one for sure."_

Well, it seemed these commando teams had been separating themselves. How convenient.

Tightening her grip on her staff, Manhunter then stormed over towards the two soldiers in front of her. The smart thing would have been to try and sneak up on the two men, but that would've required some serious effort on her part. The catwalk was made of steel, so every foot step she took echoed throughout the plant. She would have had to take her time, go slow, and minimize the sound.

The problem was that these guys were trigger happy and ready to shoot anyone they considered an enemy. She couldn't let that happen. So, she figured, if she couldn't sneak up on them, she would give them another target, one that could fight back easier than anyone below them could.

And these commandos heard her coming. Heads snapping up, they got one good look at the charging vigilante and immediately jerked the barrels of their machine guns to take aim at her.

In a flash, Manhunter threw her arm out, sending a spinning throwing star flying through the air. The projectile collided with the gun of the closest man, causing it to jerk upwards just before it fired, bullets exploding up towards the ceiling. The second man was behind the first and held his fire so that he didn't shoot his friend.

That was all the time Manhunter needed to close the remaining distance between them. Swinging her staff widely, the end of the weapon managed to strike her opponent's gun, knocking it cleanly out of his hand. Using her momentum to her advantage, she leaped up into the air, swinging a leg as she did so. She landed a kick to her foe's face, knocking him back into his comrade, causing the two men to stumble backwards.

Feet touching back down onto the catwalk, Manhunter turned her body so that her profile faced the two commandos. Gripping her bo staff with both hands, she then jabbed one end of the staff into the gut of the man in front of her. The man doubled over as the air was forced out of his lungs, leaving him gasping for air. Immediately, she swung her staff up, causing the end of the staff to collided with the soldier's chin, his head snapping back from the blow.

His body was forcibly flung backwards, though the second soldier was quick to get out of the way this time. The man landed on the catwalk, skidding across it until he came to a stop.

Eyeing the second man as he pressed himself against the railing, Manhunter brought her bo staff to a side, intending on using a side swing to knock him over. Of course, plans didn't always happen the way they were intended. As she swung her staff, the soldier darted down the causeway, evading the strike.

Undeterred, Manhunter brought her staff to her hip as she turned her body so that her profile was facing her foe. She jabbed the end at the man, who backed a step away. Over and over, she jabbed her staff, only for her opponent to retreat a step in turn.

All of this was a distraction. See, the commando still had his gun on him and her repeated strikes was keeping him from trying to get a shot at her. However, she was afraid to admit she hadn't come up with a way to disarm him just yet. It wouldn't be too long before the guy figured out a way to counter her.

As Manhunter pulled her staff back, she flicked a switch on the shaft. The end of the staff began to glow brightly, the commando's eyes widening at the sight of it. She didn't need too much power, just enough to stun. Though if this staff was anything like her previous one, it was gonna pack a punch that would send this soldier flying.

Shifting the staff in front of her so that she could better aim her blast, she hit the button to fire when her opponent suddenly closed the distance between them. Letting go of their machine gun with one hand, they used that same hand to grab onto the shaft of the staff and forced it to a side.

The blast fired from the end of the staff, a beam of bright light burning through the air. Manhunter only had time to blink when an explosion erupted, a burst of wind slamming into the brunette and her opponent. Her hip collided with the railing, which prompted her to immediately reach down with a hand to steady her against it, the same with her opponent.

Manhunter winced as she felt a jolt of pain travel down her leg. When her eyes opened, they were trained on the large cloud of smoke billowing upward towards the ceiling. There were flashes of flames from within the smoke indicating that something was burning.

And the only thought in her head was, "_Oh crap, I hope that wasn't something important."_

* * *

Footsteps stomped down on the linoleum floor, charging through the plant in search of their goal. Over the radio, Flag heard the reports of costumed attackers interfering with their mission.

Whoever they were, that they were managing to delay his team spoke of some combat skills and organization. He knew that this mission in Gotham wasn't going to be easy, so he was not surprised by any of this. There was no sense getting frustrated by it.

Instead, he thought of what means there were to complete this part of the mission.

When one member of the team remarked how one of the attackers fired a beam of energy out of a staff, causing an explosion that even he heard from his current position, he had two thoughts. The first was irrelevant to the situation; the second might prove to solve the problem of completing their objective.

"Enemy forces are trying to stop us. Change objective to damaging the plant itself. Destroy everything you can find, but make sure that it makes it inoperable," Flag ordered over their radios. "I repeat, destroy everything."

Might as well take a cue from the hostiles.

Pressing forward, Flag was taking out a grenade and pulling the pin. Exiting the hallway he was currently in, he emerged into another large filled to the brim with electricity-producing machinery. There were still workers here, a few of which sent him and his teammate odd looks.

"Evacuate immediately!" he called out as he held his armed grenade for all to see. To make sure they understood the severity of the situation, he added, "Fire in the hole!"

By then, the workers were running for their lives, and the fact that they were still in range of receiving bodily harm did not stop Flag from throwing the incendiary device at one of the machines. With the clasp that prevented the grenade from detonating in his hand unclenched, the internal detonation mechanism started its countdown, allowing Flag the time needed to duck for cover.

The result explosion succeeded at its task, tearing apart the machine it had landed next to and putting it out of commission. As expected, an alarm blared, warning everyone about the damage and danger that it represented.

Reaching for another grenade, the colonel stopped as he heard machine gun fire. Automatically, he concluded that a hostile had caught up with them and immediate reached for his own gun.

Spinning on his heel, he only had enough time to fire a single controlled burst of bullets before a crackling stick struck the weapon and knocked it out of his hands. Thankfully, the strap attached to the rifle prevented it from falling to the floor and clattering away. However, the crackling that stick had made had revealed that it was electrified and the voltage had been strong enough to be felt through his gloves.

Already, the muscles in his hands were spasming, clenching reflexively. It was a miracle that his weapon had slipped out of hands before the shock reached them, but Flag wasn't going to speculate on the improbability.

Instead, he focused on the sight of a costumed young man engaging in hand-to-hand combat with his fellow team member. He felt no pride even as the young man under his command put up a decent fight. This was a combat situation and now wasn't the time for pride.

With that said, seeing how the hostile fought, it made Flag want to go one-on-one himself.

Slipping out a combat knife and adjusting his grip on the handle, he figured he's indulge himself this once.

* * *

They had taught the army some good moves; outside of some themed assassin, or a crocodile man, Nightwing hadn't had this much trouble in a while. He wouldn't be surprised if this was a Navy SEAL, but for the time being, this guy needed to be stopped from doing further damage to this vigilante's city.

Easier said than done since "Be-All-That-You-Can-Be" here was blocking most of his attacks and getting some close ones on him. Reminding himself to stay calm and wait for his chance, he spotted it soon enough when the decked-out commando overextended a punch.

With his free hand, Nightwing knocked the extended arm further away and rammed the crackling end of his escrima into the guy's side. That managed to get a yelp out of the army man here, and the vigilante followed up with an uppercut to the chin, causing teeth to slam violently together and cut off any cries of pain. Grabbing the bulletproof vest, the masked man dropped down while pulling on the vest and threw the defenseless man over him and into one of the machines face first, taking him down once and for all.

Okay, now if his memory was right, there was—

_Whoa!_

Just as he had gotten to his feet, alarms in his head screamed at him to move and for good reason. A damn knife had nearly sliced into him, missing by probably a couple millimeters. Before Nightwing could really adjust and put some distance between him and his attacker, that knife was slicing at him again.

Backpedaling, the vigilante kept moving backwards as the knife-wielding commando pressed forward, not letting up for an instant. The young man was able to make out the sternest face he had ever seen on a man, something that reminded him of flesh-colored granite. Thanks to that helmet, the majority of the man's face was protect and blocked off any other identifying features.

But defense was not Nightwing's go-to strategy.

"You must be new," he taunted as the knife-wielding man turned his next slice into a thrust. Tightening his grip on his escrima, the vigilante replied with an electrified swing and a quip. "Welcom—"

An arm blocked the strike, stopping the escrima from hitting anywhere by jarring the vigilante's arm. The next thing Nightwing knew, he had an eyeful of helmet slamming into his face and then his back was friendly with the floor. The floor wasn't as friendly back.

"You need to learn to shut up," the commando retorted as he adjusted his grip on the knife-handle and stabbed it downward.

Reacting quickly, Nightwing used both of his hands to catch the man by his wrist, throwing his legs up simultaneously and snaking them around a well-protected arm. Clenching his teeth tightly, he took only a second to see a few letters inscribed on a pocket flap that peek out from around the bulletproof jacket.

FLA

With a jerk and a twist, the vigilante managed to turn his body to a side, which had the effect and forcing the man above him to fall to a side, impacting the floor with his shoulder. Freeing one hand, the masked crime-fighter struggled for the knife, physically prying open fingers to do so.

Feeling a fist punch his leg, he figured that his captive knew what he was up to and was trying to do whatever it took to free his arm with the weapon still in his grasp. It was too little too late, and Nightwing ripped the knife out of his grasp, throwing it away as far as he could. No sooner had he done that when his back turned back onto the floor and the commando was shoving himself against the vigilante's legs.

To Nightwing's surprise, the arm he held began to slip out of his hold. Deciding not to double-down or wait, the vigilante kicked with his legs and pushed the military man away. Throwing his legs in the opposite direction, he went into a roll, stopping only when his feet met with the floor.

The commando had his fists up, his stance offensive. He was planning to continue then, not willing to give up. Fine by him; if this asshole wanted a fight, he would get one.

Pushing up with his legs, Nightwing lunged forward, blocking the punch that was swung at him and attempting a strike of his own. He was blocked and then it was his turn to knock aside the counterattack and continue the grapple. Punches and elbows and legs and whatever else were used to get whatever advantage either man could get and each were answered with a block, or a parry, or a flat out dodge.

When the commando tried a high kick, Nightwing caught the leg then proceeded to swing the man around and throw him. The commando caught his balance effortlessly and charged forward once more. A vicious punch barely scrapped by the young man's face, and he grabbed the outstretched arm to hold it in place while jabbed some rapid blows to the older man's ribs.

An elbow managed to hit the vigilante in the side of the head, the commando choosing not to resist with his captured arm, but to twist his torso enough to swing his other arm around. The vigilante answered with a sharp blow to the man's lower back and followed up with a shove forward.

That bulletproof vest must be providing some protection, because there wasn't even a yell there. Spinning on his heel, the commando closed the distance between them once more, not letting up for a second. It was only a matter of time until one of the man's hits got through the younger man's defenses, and right in the chest was where it hit.

Attempting to restrain the arm, the commando had predicted this and and was snatching one of the vigilante's arms. Changing tactics, Nightwing pushed forward with his body, forcing the man back until they came to a stop against one of the large, humming machines. Ripping an arm free, he threw and landed a punch into that hardened face, causing the helmeted head to jerk back and bash against the surface of the machine.

He got a second hit in, but the third was a mistake. Predicting that he was going to keep with the face punching, the commando jerked his head to a side at the last second and—Holy Christ did that hurt! The padding in his gloves did not protect from the hardness of that metal surface as pain exploded throughout his hand.

A hit to his side pushed him away, but Nightwing did not let the commando leave his sight. Good thing too since the man was whipping out that automatic weapon of his and aiming it at him. With a speed he hadn't believed he had, the masked man swung a kick and knocked the gun to a side, removing the costumed man out of the way of the barrel. In a happy accident, the gun barrel struck against the machine and the force of Nightwing's kick had been enough to cause it to bend a bit.

Barely letting that phase him, the commando adjusted his grip on the rifle and used it as a club to bat the vigilante away. Keeping his eyes on the gun, Nightwing failed to see the grenade that was pulled out and only saw it after the pin had been removed.

Without even a quip, the incendiary device was tossed at him. Catching it, Nightwing threw it as high up into the air as he could, an explosion blasting out a couple seconds later.

Shielding hsi head with one arm as the blast rang out, Nightwing returned his attention to his opponent the first instant he had. To his surprise, the commando had slipped away and was out of sight. It was like he had vanished into thin air.

"Who the hell was that?" he wondered.

* * *

The explosions had been alarming. More importantly, the reading she was getting from the main console indicated there was some damage done to the main generator. She wasn't sure whether the damage was done to the generator itself, or to the delivery system. Either way, there was a problem.

"Oracle, we have a problem," she said into her comm link. Though their team was effectively on their own, it wasn't a bad idea to have Oracle give them a hand. She was the only one that could in this situation. "Something's wrong with the main generator."

Oracle was quick to respond. "_Wrong how?"_

Bluebird read the gauges and grimaced. "We're losing power. The grid's going to go down in maybe ten, twenty minutes tops."

"_Was the generator blown?"_

The blue-cald vigilante shook her head, even though the computer hacker couldn't see her. "No, I don't think so. It's possible the lines that take the power from the generator were compromised. I'm not entirely sure."

"_Is there anything you can do? I think this one is out of my hands."_

That wasn't what she wanted to hear, but she should have expected it. Though the plant was run by computers, it wasn't as if they controlled everything.

So how could she fix it? It was obvious one of them had to. Bluebird's brow furrowed as she frantically thought.

Wait a second. There had to be a backup system, right? If there was a problem with the main generator, they couldn't just shut it down, not without every citizen in Gotham going up in arms. There were back ups, which meant there was a secondary delivery system.

If she could activate them and ensure they could produce power, whatever damage those explosions had done would be minimal.

"Oracle, can you tell me the fastest way to the basement?" Bluebird asked.

"_I guess. What's this about?"_

"The power plant has a backup system. I'm not sure if I can turn it on from the control room, but I know for certain I can turn it on manually. Those generators are located on a sub-level though, so I need to know the fastest way there from the main control room."

"_Got it. Hold tight."_ Seconds began to pass by, each one seeming to last longer than the last. Bluebird made it a point not to look at a clock lest her impatience get the best of her—and that was already making her jittery.

"_Alright, I've got something."_ Finally! "_Find a vent along the back wall. It should be close to the floor."_

Bluebird swung around and began searching the wall. She found a ventilation grate close to the back corner of the room. Immediately, she was striding towards it. "I found it."

"_Good, get in it. You'll have a few feet before you'll find a shaft; it'll be going up and down."_

Bluebird was kneeling by then, screwdriver in hand. She began removing the screws holding the vent in as quickly possible, tossing the screws out of her way once she had then off. Once the grate came loose, she shoved it to a side and began crawling into the vent headfirst.

As Oracle said, she found the shaft shortly after. "I'm guessing I'm supposed to go down," she muttered.

"_You guessed right. I'm not sure how far you'll go but_—"

Bluebird didn't bother listening by that point. Part of her wished she had gone in feet first, but that couldn't be helped. Slipping into the shaft, she pressed her hands on either side of the ventilation duct, climbing higher and higher until her legs were dangling below her.

Now for the hard part.

Relaxing her arms, she began dropping downwards, slowly at first, but then she went into a free fall. She pressed her hands and feet against the sides of the shaft, feeling a burning sensation from the friction created through her gloves and boots. She began to slow though.

And then she repeated it, relaxing her limbs so that she could drop further down, only to slow herself again. Eventually, she reached the bottom and thankfully there was a duct that she was able to crawl into. She ran into a grate thereafter, one she wrenched free.

Once she was out, she found herself in a cement room, one with a large turbine and a small panel. This wasn't the backup system, but it was a start. Moving to the console, Bluebird turned it on, hearing the turbine starting up as the blades began to spin. Turning her head to a side, she saw the room was longer than it was wide, another turbine resting further down.

Moving to the next one, she turned the turbine on as well. There was a third one as well and that was turned on shortly thereafter.

However, Bluebird felt as if there was something missing. Glancing at the generators, all three of which were picking up speed as they charged, the blue-clad vigilante began searching for another console, one that had to control the delivery system.

Thankfully she found it against a wall. It wasn't as sophisticated as the one in the control room, but it would do. Already, she could see the gauges reading the power output from the generators, the numbers climbing with every passing second. However, they weren't sending the power out.

She could fix that.

Finding a keyboard, Bluebird began typing on the keys, a computer monitor lighting up. A program was running and thankfully it was the one she wanted. "Yes, I want to open up the lines," she muttered to herself as she typed in the command. "No, I don't want to use the main line. Let's send all this power...down the secondary line."

"_Bluebird? Can you hear me?"_ Oracle suddenly asked.

"I hear you. What's up?"

"_I've hacked the power grid so I can keep an eye on the power output from the power plant. It was starting to lose power, just like you said. But now, I can see the power is coming back. Whatever it is you did, it's working."_

"I'm not through just yet," the young vigilante said in response. "There are a few more generators I can activate...which I am." Several more keystrokes followed thereafter. "And I'm making sure I'm sealing off the primary line from the secondary. That way we don't lose any power because it wants to go through the main lines…and so these guys won't know which lines to cut to shut the plant down...should they try again."

She hit the ENTER button them, punctuating her last word. There, that should take care of this mess. Heh, maybe she needed to change her name from Bluebird to the Electrician considering all the electrical work she was doing lately.

* * *

It hadn't taken long for Flag to find out the status of his men.

From his briefings, he had been aware of the vigilante element in the city, but he hadn't been expecting this kind of resistance from them. Still, that had caused some damage to the plant, destroyed some of the machinery and equipment used to keep it operational. It would have to do until he could get the full might of the government to shut the place down legally.

"Everyone, fall back," he ordered into his radio. "Cover your sixes until we regroup. We're getting out of here."

It left a bitter taste in his mouth to say those words. He had never failed to complete a mission before and what little they did accomplish was not to his satisfaction.

But fine, he could play hardball. If that's what these people wanted, he would show them just what they were dealing with. This was not over, far from it.

Not by a long shot.

* * *

To FlackAttack: Well, Batman won't make it easy, that's for sure. He has a tendency for complicating relationships, or having them complicated for him lol.


	7. Sniper

No sooner does he begin to get a handle on the recent developments in the city, the next obstacles appears to make him stumble.

This time was a serious blow, one that Bane had not anticipated.

Bird's corpse laid on the floor in front of the larger, masked man. Unseeing eyes stared up at the ceiling above, the face frozen with an expression of both shock and terror. The blood splattered revealed that he had fallen from quite a height, most likely from the rafters up above.

When word had reached him of this massacre, Bane had been quick to act, ordering what forces he had nearby to secure the area. After taking in the sight of the other bodies, many of which still held their guns in hand, the Santa Priscan native initially believed that this was another strike by Ra's al Ghul and his minions.

But then details weren't adding up. The wounds on the bodies didn't fit in with what the weaponry that the Demon's Fang wielded were capable of. Second, a small, tiny section of the warehouse was riddled with bullets, as if all the men here had discharged at one location.

Lastly, al Ghul left no messages behind. The dead bodies were message enough.

The words YOU'RE NEXT written in blood and in all capital letters painted a large section of the floor that was not covered with either crates, or bodies. It was difficult not to see this message. Flickering eyes from the words to the blood that puddled under Bird and it was simple to conclude what the killer had done here.

He wasn't going to spell it out; there was no need. His anger, pent up for so long, demanded to lash out, and so Bane did. A fist slammed into crate, breaking through the wood like it was paper. He barely felt any resistance against his fist.

Taking everything together, it was obvious that there was yet another player in this city.

How? How was this possible? As soon as he felt he was gaining control, the city threw yet another complication! As a result, his rage was beginning to become harder to control.

But rage would not dictate his next course of action. He needed to remain calm and level-headed so as not to make a new mistake.

One of his loyal trusted lieutenants was down, the second to go after all contact with Trogg cut off. Zombie was the last one and all that would be left were the dwindling numbers of his cannon fodder. Restructuring was in order, but more importantly, speeding up the time table with Tetch was needed.

One last thing: this insult could not be left unanswered. This new challenger had made their intentions known and Bane needed to respond in kind. This interloper, nay, the city itself, needed a powerful lesson with who it was dealing with.

The heavy artillery would be necessary. That, and a lightning fast attack on a target of his choosing. It would need to be quick and hard and reaffirm who was the true power here.

First, he would crush their confidence; then he would take away their wills.

* * *

He was locked and loaded. Sights were adjusted and were dead-on center. Gotham had no shortage of vantage points either, so his spot was high, taking away the influence of gravity on his shot.

Crouching behind the ledge, Deadshot rested the rifle's kickstand on top of the cement barrier, peering through the scope on top of his weapon. He had been hard at work trying to establish this exact scenario and—trust him—it hadn't been easy.

This wasn't the first time he had taken on ninjas. Obviously none of them had been serious threats considering he was still here and they weren't. The only difference between them and ordinary targets was that they were better at hiding. Deadshot knew all of the hiding places though—and more importantly knew how to get around them. There didn't exist a target he couldn't hit.

And he never missed.

Right now, he could see on a lower rooftop a group of ninjas. These guys knew what they were doing after all the time he had spent observing them. Don't assume he had been following them because that's not how he did things. Trained assassins could tell when they were being tailed, so he took up the post as a fortunate observer. He predicted where these guys were going and made sure to beat them to the point. Figuring they were going after his employer and his men, Deadshot positioned himself at the most advantageous spot and was rewarded in turn.

These guys were pros, of that he was certain. They did well taking cover behind walls, chimney stacks, and gargoyles. They were never out in the open for longer than a blink of an eye. It made a guy think they were just seeing things.

For all their skills, though, they wouldn't last too long. Right now, the ninjas he was following had taken up refuge on a rooftop several stories below his own. They were perhaps five, six hundred feet away.

Deadshot frowned. That was a hundred feet difference in his estimate. That wouldn't do at all. Reaching a hand up to his scope, he adjusted the sight, watching as the lens within the scope changed, zooming closer to the rooftop. Make that distance between five seventy and five eighty. That was a more acceptable estimation.

From what he could tell of the rooftop, it was some garden for a wealthy type, what with the various garden beds all over the roof and the hanging plant pots. The plants weren't anything exotic, but they were well cared for. Mingled between the beds were the ninjas, some kneeling, others standing.

These guys would be easy-pickings.

The corner of Deadshot's mouth rose up, a smirk appearing on his face.

"Bang."

* * *

Shiva stood with her arms across her chest, resting her weight on one leg as the other was lazily bent at the knee. Ra's assassins were taking a rest in this private garden. Beds of plants grew from atop brick stands reaching perhaps three and a half, four feet in height. There was an arch above the woman's head, a brick wall off to her left that also formed an arch further behind her. It was a nice design, though the materials they were made of made it look more mundane than they should have been.

They had received word from their scouts that one of Bane's patrols would be coming by soon. Small fries that they were, eventually Shiva would kill enough of them that their leader would be forced to come out of hiding to stop her. One of his lieutenants was dead, the obsessive-compulsive Zsasz. Considering the serial killer was recruited rather than brought in with the rest of Bane's men, it was safe to say the man's death would not faze the masked man in the slightest. The lack of reprisal thus far indicated as much.

So if one pawn wasn't enough, then several more would need to be eliminated.

If Bane wasn't careful, she would eliminate his entire army and leave him a solitary king.

"Lady Shiva," one of the assassins spoke to her then, the man crossing a fist over his chest as he bowed his head in deference. "We have lost communication with our scouts."

This did not faze the dark-haired woman. "Were they wiped out by Bane's men?"

Before she received an answer, the side of the assassin's head exploded, sending blood splattering against the wall to his left. An instant later, his body collapsed to the ground.

Immediately, Shiva darted to the wall to her left, taking refuge in the corner formed by the intersecting arches. The other assassins had also taken up cover behind the brick plant beds and the ledge of the roof. They had all reacted simultaneously, appearing as if they were one rather than many.

Calmly, Shiva eyed Ra's men, seeing the men holding their ground, staying crouched behind their covers. Then one began to raise up, peeking over the plant bed he hid behind.

Instantly, his head jerked back as blood blew out the back of his skull. Shiva narrowed her eyes as the man dropped to the ground as a corpse. There was a sniper out there and he had them in his sights.

How annoying.

Considering the initial blood splatters, it was clear the sniper was off to the south. Undoubtedly, he was on a higher building rather than one at the same height. Shiva would have taken up position there herself if she were to assassinate a target from long range.

However, they needed to only stay out of sight until the sniper left his post. Most likely that would be for several hours, not that time was an issue. This was the Demon's Fang and they were very patient people. They could out-wait this sniper.

Suddenly, there was a sound, several occurring in rapid succession. Shiva only saw a flash of light, but then she saw one of the assassins suddenly slump against his cover, blood beginning to pool around him.

Then she saw a puff of smoke suddenly shoot out from a wall, quickly followed by another assassin going limp. And then another one and then another.

It took a moment before Shiva's eyes widened. This sniper, whomever he was, was good. Extremely good. He was ricocheting his bullets off different surfaces, including the walls around them, to kill them. The small puffs of smoke and dust she was seeing was the bullets bouncing off the brick surface.

They could not wait this foe out.

Retreat was necessary. Though Ra's men would be reluctant, there was never any shame in withdrawing, especially when at the mercy of a deadly foe.

"Smoke!" Shiva shouted even as she pulled out a handful of smoke pellets. Her remaining men immediately pulled out their own pellets and broke them on the ground. Immediately, several dark clouds of smoke began to cover the rooftop, joining together and forming a larger cloud.

Shiva then took off running, rounding a nearby corner as she raced for the north side of the roof. The assassins were right behind her too if the sound of their pounding footsteps were any indication.

That's when she heard the unmistakable sound of machine gun fire. Though it was odd that she hadn't heard the gunshots from the sniper rifle, a silencer on the end of the rifle would've muffled the sound enough to make it go unnoticed. There was no such silencer on the machine gun, however.

Whomever the sniper was, he had done away with trying to take them down one at a time. With the smoke cover, it only made sense that he would fire as many bullets as he could in the hope that he hit anyone hiding within it.

And hit he did. Shiva could hear the cries and screams as the assassins behind her were struck by hot lead. She could hear bodies hitting the ground even as more bullets seemed to strike the roof around her. Ignoring them all, Shiva reached the edge of the roof and didn't break stride. Pressing a foot down on top of the raised ledge, she dove off of the roof, arms extended out in front of her as she fell. Smoke clung to her body, billowing off of her as she exited the cloud, seeing the city street far below her, one that was drawing closer to her with every passing second.

With a building between her and the sniper, Shiva felt safe out in the open. Eyeing a flagpole a couple stories below her, the dark-haired spread her arms out to either side of herself as she began to go into a flip, swinging her legs downward as her head raise upwards. Over and over she flipped until her feet perfectly timed landing on top of the flag poll. The poll bent downward from the force she had landed on top of it with, the woman crouching down on top of it.

Then the flag pole sprung upward, Shiva pushing off of it as she was launched through the air, flying over the street as she flew towards the building on the opposite side. Closing in on the building, she found she was going to collide with the wall just below a window ledge. Reaching her hands up as high as she could, her palms collided with the ledge, her fingers immediately clamping down on the edge. Her legs curled beneath her, her feet took the brunt of her collision with the wall, leaving her to hang from the window ledge.

There was another ledge below her. Letting go of the one she held onto, Shiva began to fall, only to grab onto the next ledge. She did this again and again until she finally landed on the sidewalk.

Now, she needed to take cover lest the sniper had found another vantage point to strike from. An alleyway or car would not be sufficient. A building with too many windows was also inadequate.

However…

There was a manhole covering not too far away. If there was anywhere a sniper could not get a clear shot, it was underground. Moving to the cover, Shiva forced it open and slid into the opening. Not bothering to cover it back up, she climbed the ladder down until she was safely in the sewers. The pungent stench was an insult to her sensibilities, but she could deal with it. Seeing as Ra's men were all dead, this was a better alternative.

She just wouldn't be looking forward to the long trek back to base.

* * *

This wasn't the first time that he had to hunt for his target with no knowledge of his whereabouts. That detail only meant he would charge more for his services.

He had a plan, though. It was one that would require a different sort of hunting for a different sort of prey. That would mean that a heavy-handed approach would have to be restricted for the time being.

For business reasons, his name was kept a secret, and only his tradename, the KGBeast was what he was known as. His reputation for quick assassinations and common massacres tended to precede him. He would do whatever it took to complete his job, even if it included poisoning a room of one hundred people to eliminate his single target.

Poisons would not be of any use here. Frontal assaults could not be engaged in until a location was discovered. So scurrying rats would need to be found to locate his target.

It didn't take him long to find a group of them, each a shadow in the darkness that was involved in their own task. Thanks to his intelligence, the KGBeast knew where they would be going. It was only a matter of predicting the correct place and lying in wait for them to arrive.

As one hand removed the safety from his primary weapon, that of a cybernetic gun mounted where his left hand used to be, he studied the rats through the white eye lens that concealed his eyes. The mask they were attached to kept his facial features a secret, much like this did for his current employer.

That employer would get nothing less than the head of the legendary Demon's Head himself.

Tensing bulging muscles, he observed the Demon's Head's servants, watching as they took positions around one of the small safe houses that held a team belonging to Bane. Waiting, he allowed the rats to enter, counting down to ten in his head before leaping from his perch and towards the building in question.

Now it was time to end stealth and do what he did best.

Through a window he crashed, going into a roll before ending up on his feet while ending up behind one of the dark-garbed rats. The rat spun around to face him, not even hesitating to attack with his drawn sword. In an instant, KGBeast blocked the sword slash that attempted to remove his head. The sword quivered against the reinforced metal of his gunhand, and with his right hand, he pinned the bladed weapon between him and the rat, holding it long enough to pull back to his left, weaponized arm and punch it forwards. The rat's head snapped back, his grip on the sword weakening enough for the masked Russian and tear it away.

With the rat disarmed, he fired a controlled blast of bullets, tearing the costumed corpses to shreds in an instant. The response was immediate; he could hear the sounds of footsteps running towards his location.

He didn't wait; he took off running, crashing through a wall and sending plaster and sheetrock everywhere. Arm extended, he fired another controlled burst of gunfire into the back of another rat, ending that one's night like his comrade before.

Barely an instant later, he dropped to the floor, allowing several throwing stars to fly overhead and miss him. Without looking, he swung his left hand behind himself and fired another burst. The sound of something heavy falling to the floor was all he needed to hear.

It didn't take much longer after that to deal with the rest. The fourth rat to die was gunned down, much like the three before. The fifth rat got in close, hoping for a close-quarters fight that would prove more successful than the first rat's.

KGBeast didn't need to rely on a weapon to be dangerous; his hand-to-hand had been exceptional even before he lost his left hand. Besides, the sword strikes were obvious and easy to block. As the sword struck his gunhand, KGBeast beat the blade to one side, putting his weight behind the block. The sword and his gunhand collided against the wall, a second barely passing before the sword snapped in two from the collision and the pressure his gun placed upon it. To this rat's credit, he didn't freeze from the breaking of his weapon, instead dropping the remains of the sword and pulled out two daggers.

Backpedaling, he jerked and twsited as he dodged each and every slash and stab that came his way, keeping a sharp eye on the rat's movements until he could discern a pattern. Shooting his hand, he caught one of the rat's wrist, pulling him close while leaning his head back as far as he could. He then threw it forward, delivering a brutal headbutt.

Slipping his left hand under the rat, he lifted him up and threw the bastard threw a wall with little effort. Before pressing after him, he tilted his head to a side and allowed a shuriken to whistle by his ear. Holding his left arm out parallel with the floor, he fired another burst without taking a second to aim. He was moving when he did not hear the sound of anything thumping.

Reaching the end of the hallway, he thrusting his left arm into the wall, jumping simultaneously and using his arm as a fulcrum while he swung a leg out and around the corner. Most people tended to be right-handed and would move to their right when dodging. That mean he needed to attack to his left, and just as he had guessed, there was the last rat. His kick caught the rat in his left arm and the force of the blow was enough to send the nobody skidding down the intersecting hallway.

The Beast's feet were barely touching down on the floor when he tore his gun out of the wall, sending more plaster and sheetrock flying about. The rat had recovered and was shouting something meaningless, going on the attack with wild sword thrusts that were easily evaded. Thanks to the hallway, it was easy to predict where each thrust came from; there was limited space here which meant there were limited choices to make when attacking.

Skirting to a side, he clamped his arm down on the long, Japanese-style blade like a vice, pinning the flat side of the blade against his side. Picking up a leg, his kicked his foot out and into the rat's gut, throwing him back and causing the gloved hands to release the sword handle.

Letting the weapon fall to the floor, he raised his gun up once more and fired another controlled burst, ending this rat's struggle.

Pausing, he listened for any sounds that would indicate another attacker. Doing a mental check, he concluded that he had killed all but one of the rack of rats. At least, he should have if that one he had thrown through a wall hadn't croaked. It would be best to check.

Retracing his steps, he arrived at one of the two large holes he had made throughout the struggle and after peering into both, he saw that there was no body in either of them. It would appear that there was indeed a survivor.

Good.

Taking out a tracking device and turning it on, he observed the moving red dot that was making a quick getaway. Now to follow this rat back to the nest.

* * *

Pulling an arrow out of the corpse, the bow-wielding assassin known simply at Merlyn wiped down the projectile and replaced it into one of the multiple quivers he carried. While tedious work, it was easier to retrieve an arrow than a bullet, and skills were such that he didn't need to use many. Like all wise men, he carried more than needed because one never knew when they would need a large amount of ammunition.

This was another group of the Demon's Head's minions. All were dead as per Bane's instructions. Hopefully, this would gain the attention of his true target and lead to a face-to-face confrontation. He knew better, though; a man such as Ra's al Ghul could care less how many men he lost so long as he accomplished his goal.

He had heard the stories, listened to the whispers, and knew better than to expect this to be an easy assignment. You did not become as dreaded a man as the Demon's Head without reason. That was why he wanted to lure the man out and see what he was capable of without getting too close. It was fortunate, then, that he specialized in long-ranged combat.

That was the advantage of a bow over a gun; with the latter you needed to use additional accessories to ensure your continued stealth. A simply arrow did not require that kind of preparation, only the skill needed to pull off the maneuver. He had that more in abundance, to the point he didn't need to look at his target when shooting.

Which was why he could sense that there was someone nearby. Had he perhaps missed one? That caused a frown to flicker over his facial features for an instant. It wasn't often he was careless enough to do such a thing; nevertheless, it meant another head for him to present. He could collect his arrows later. Now, it was time for the hunt.

Merlyn took to the shadows, an arrow notched and ready to be fired. He didn't stop moving until he found himself a good vantage over the area, one that came in the form of a fire escape. His movements were stealthy enough that the metal did not creak under him. From there he would wait, watching for his prey.

His flight was perfectly timed; no sooner had he taken roost did this straggler appear. From here, all he was able to make out was a hat of sorts, and was that a bow strapped to a back? Instead of retreating immediately, much to Merlyn's surprise, the newcomer crouched down...and studied the bodies? Why would he do that? Had it not occurred to him that the perpetrator may be close by?

Tensing his muscles, he pulled the taut bowstring tighter, waiting seconds as the newcomer began examining one of his abandoned arrows, and only then releasing sweet death.

What happened next, Merlyn was unable to fully grasp, but this newcomer was on his feet and firing an arrow of his own,, one that collided with the assassin's in midair and ricocheting it off its trajectory.

Now that had _never_ happened.

His surprise had made him hesitate an instant too long because the newcomer had fired a second arrow, one that he only had seconds to spy out and jerk his head to a side to avoid. As the projectile shot by him, he realized that his action had been wasted; the arrow was not going to impale his head even if he had stayed perfectly still. So, that must have been a fluke earl—

A small detonation occurred behind him, and belatedly he realized that there was more to that arrow than its appearance. There had been an explosive device embedded in it, one powerful enough that it knocked him over the fire escape's railing and down to the pavement below. He flipped over himself and landed on his feet, the shock of the landing sending tremors up his the limbs.

"Sorry, Charlie, but it's not human season just yet. I'm going to have to turn you in for poaching," the man taunted, his deep voice giving away a portion of his identity.

The tone of that voice, though, irked him.

"Do you see this as a game?" he demanded as he stood up to his full height. Narrowing his eyes, Merlyn pressed, "Are you one of his?"

"Depends on who he is," the archer replied, a beard making itself known to the murderous archer. Hmm, that was a feature he needed to store away for later, provided there was a later. Other traits, such as the green that colored the interloper's attire were also filed away.

"The Demon's Head. You are one of his?" Merlyn clarified. He didn't think this was necessary, but there were always infuriating men like this who could crawl under your skin with little effort.

"Nope. A guy like Ra's al Ghul is the kind of guy _I_ poach," the green archer retorted.

That caused a frown to mar Merlyn's face. "Then who do you work for?"

"I'm my own man, but if you're going to ask twenty questions, then I'll save you some time. You can call me Green Arrow and know that I'm one of the good guys," the bearded man declared.

Merlyn's curiosity was gone and replaced with content. He had heard about this type. Feh, what a waste.

"Not for long," the assassin declared, pulling out five individual arrows and notching each one on his string.


	8. Attack Of The Beast

Ra's al Ghul's expression hardened.

It was as sudden as it was unexpected. His patrol teams were being eliminated with brutal efficiency. A report had just come in announcing a sixth team had just been found.

Someone was turning the tables on him.

There was no common denominator between the slain teams. Bullets, blades—knives and swords alike—and blunt force had been used on the corpses. Either it was one efficient attacker, or there were multiple ones. Further investigation was needed, of course, but neither scenario was palatable.

"And what of Lady Shiva?" he questioned.

The messenger prostrated before him did not flinch, nor shrink in on himself. In a calm tone, he answered, "We have been unable to locate the Lady. We have found her team among those that were attacked, but she was not present."

So Lady Shiva was either alive and lying low, or had managed to escape only to be hunted down and killed. The likelihood of the former was greater than the latter, but assumptions could not be made. He would not count on her assistance until she either returned, or was found dead.

Regardless, this was most troubling. His campaign against Bane had been going largely according to plan. Now, either a new player had entered the game, or Bane was raising the stakes by bringing in more, higher skilled help than the serial killer Zsasz. Ra's was expecting the latter this time than the former.

"And the survivors?" he inquired then.

"Only a few. Three or four and they are all receiving medical treatment."

More information could be gleaned once those men were sufficiently healed. Ra's wanted to know who their attackers were, assuming there were multiple ones, and what they were capable of. The sooner he devised a counter for them, the better.

"You may leave," Ra's spoke, granting a dismissal of his messenger. The man bowed his head lower before he stood up, promptly turning and around and heading for the doorway.

The assassin did not even reach the doors as they were flung open. "Master!" another assassin cried out, his uniform bloody and torn at various place on his body. "We've been attacked!"

Ra's straightened his back as he shot up in his chair. "What happened?" he demanded.

The wounded assassin stumbled into the room, dropping to a knee right where the previous messenger had knelt. "There was a man that ambushed us. He was too strong for us."

Ra's narrowed his eyes. "He eliminated your team? All of them?"

The man nodded. "Yes. I was the only one that managed to escape."

"Tell me of this man. Everything you know."

"Yes, Master. He was as tall as a mountain and as lethal as a wolf. He wore a mask so I have no identifiable features to tell you, save for his left hand. He had a weapon mounted to it, some sort of high-capacity machine gun. He would use the gun sparingly, preferring to fight us in hand-to-hand combat. He could counter our swords and throwing stars without tiring."

According to the report, this attacker was highly skilled. And yet, he allowed one man to escape his wrath? That was highly unlikely unless—

Suddenly, there was a loud explosion, one that rocked the building around them. Ra's grabbed ahold of the armrests of his chair, his hands tightening on the ends to the point his knuckles turned white. The other men in the room reached for various walls to steady themselves, a couple even dropping to a knee to use the floor as an anchor. "What was that?!" Ubu cried out.

One of the door guards abandoned his post as he ran towards a window. "Master! I see smoke!" he proclaimed.

Ra's shot his eyes towards his bloodied messenger. "You led him right to us!" he roared, rising out of his chair and looming over this incompetent fool.

"I did not know, Master!" the man protested.

"You did not escape, he allowed you to so that he could learn where my location was." Ra's came to a stop before the man, a hand reaching to the hilt of his sword. "Your foolishness has exposed us."

With a flash of steel, Ra's drew his sword and cleanly sliced off the assassin's head, sending it tumbling through the air. It hit the floor several feet away, bouncing a few times before it began rolling over and over until it came to a stop. The man's body slumped to the floor at Ra's feet, pouring blood out of the severed neck.

The Eternal Man held his sword out, which Ubu immediately took from him, a handful of cleaning paper in his hand to wipe away the blood from his blade. "We can no longer stay here," the ancient one intoned, no longer sparing the corpse before him any more attention. "We shall withdraw to another of the properties Talia has appropriated for us. Send a force to hold off this attacker and send word to Talia to leave."

"Yes, Master," the three remaining assassins replied before they left the room to do his bidding. By then, the hilt of his sword was held before him, Ra's accepting it as he returned it to its scabbard. "Come, Ubu. Our departure awaits."

* * *

In order to survive harsh winters in Russia, one had to be cunning killer when hunting prey.

The KGBeast was such a hunter. These men of the shadows were child's play for him. They had been trained and worked well as unit, but he was accustomed to fighting many. The more there were, the more fun he had. Yet, he was under contract and these men were not his targets. Allowing one to return to his leader, the true target, was all he needed.

The hum of the motorcycle filled his ears. Vibrations tickled his legs. Revving the engine with a turn of the handgrip, the noise grew louder. Attached to the motorcycle was a passenger pod, a specially prepared package sitting in its seat.

It was ready; he was ready.

Picking feet off of the pavement and kicking the kickstand up, he drove motorcycle down the street. Up ahead was the target, the headquarters for this Demon's Fang. The ninja had gone straight here, never the wiser to his being hunted.

The buildings blurred around him as he passed by. His target loomed higher and higher over him. The mask on face was protecting him from wind battering at his body. He glanced at the rooftops and saw shadowy figures move. No doubt these were comrades of his prey.

They would not be able to stop the KGBeast.

Flicking switch on the handlebar, the passenger pod disconnected from the bike. KGBeast pulled away from it, creating distance between them. One moment later and the pod began picking up speed, a custom-made engine activating and taking over its acceleration. Slowing down, KGBeast watched the passenger pod rocketed down the street until it reached the building.

An explosion blasted out, a deafening roar shattering the still night. Flames reached out in all directions, burning, searing, destroying. Dark smoke replaced the fire as it reached to the heavens.

KGBeast twisted on the handle and his motorcycle sped up again. He drove right for fire, ignoring the heat as he was consumed by flames. His whole world was red, orange, and yellow, yet he feared not. His skin burned, but he ignored pain.

Then he was through. Emerging from the fire, a few burns on his bare arms the only signs of harm to his person. He was in some sort of lobby and there were many of the masked assassins he had fought before.

Pressing up with his legs, he lifted his body off the seat and jumped off the motorcycle. The vehicle continued on without him, running right into one of the assassins, colliding with his body. The man was knocked off his feet and carried backwards by the bike until he crashed into wall.

Meanwhile, KGBeast landed on the ground too, going into a roll so as not to injury his legs. His momentum had carried him through the air a good distance. Ending up back on feet, the masked assassin kept crouched, raising left arm so he could take aim with his cybernetic gun.

And then he open fire.

* * *

This was very alarming. There had been a hundred crime scenes Batman had investigated, but none of them had shocked him the way he was now.

They were assassins of the Demon's Fang. He knew them by sight. And there were several of them lying on the roof dead.

They had been gunned down. While it was possible a small group got the drop on them and executed them, it would have to take a well-trained group at tracking other well-trained killers.

That was unlikely. The lack of bullet casings indicated the shooter, or shooters had been from a distance and not up close. It was the work of snipers to be sure. But had the shootings happened all at once, though?

Stepping carefully around the bodies, the dark-clad man gave a slow, cursory look around the rooftop. He recorded through the cameras in his mask's lens everything, the bodies, the bullet holes, and the other collateral damage. Once that was done, he began a more thorough inspection.

The first body was of an assassin with the side of his head blown apart, a single shot that killed him quickly. A glance to the wall and he quickly found the corresponding bullet hole. Moving to the hole, he looked into it and spotted the flat end of a bullet. It was embedded deeply into the brick, so removing it would require removing the entire brick.

That could wait. If he got lucky, he could find another bullet to match. Looking to another body, he found it slumped up against a brick stand, a bed of flowers growing on top of it. A frown appeared on Batman's face. The entrance wound, it was from the opposite direction of the bullet wound from the first victim. Had the roof been open, that would not have been so worrisome.

However, there was a penthouse build on top of the building and the wall painted with blood was the exterior of the apartment. There was no clear shot from the opposite direction. So how was this man shot?

Looking to the wall, he studied it, but found no obvious answer. However, he did notice a small amount of red granules, chipped pieces of brick on the roof next to the wall. Raising a hand up, he began running the tips of his fingers against the wall.

It was hard to find, but he found a sudden dip in one of the bricks. Something had hit it and at an angle as well. Looking to his left, he spotted a metal tank at the end of the roof, a noticeable dent in the tank's face. Looking back and forth between the tank, the wall, and the body, an impossible thought occurred to him. A bullet had ricocheted off the tank, to the wall, and then into the assassin. It was incredible to think, but it made sense, no matter how improbable it was.

Yet, it was the only explanation he could come up with. Moving to another body, he found a similar phenomenon. The assassin had also been hit from the same direction as the second victim and another look around gave him evidence of another ricocheted shot.

There was no way a group of snipers had done this. There weren't that many trained sharpshooters that could perform a shot like this at will. No, this had to be the work of one sniper.

Standing up to his full height, Batman again began scanning the rooftop, ignoring the crouched form of Batgirl at the roof's ledge. She was watching him like a hawk, silent and ever watchful. That was normal for her since she didn't participate in the investigative part of their patrol.

However, Batman had the feeling she wasn't just waiting for him to complete his investigation. It was more like she was watching him, studying him, hyper-aware of his every move. It was irritating to be honest.

So he ignored her as he continued his work, especially since he had moved onto a couple more bodies. These were lying face down on the roof, their backs to the direction of the sniper, if the first victim's body was anything to go by. There were multiple bullet wounds in their bodies, indicating the sniper began shooting without aiming. There were several more bullet holes in the ground, which backed up this theory.

Also, there was a residue, he couldn't help but notice. It was one similar to the smoke pellets he used, which were the same ones the Demon's Fang used. There weren't a lot of producers of smoke pellets, so they all typically were the same and left the same residue pattern. It wasn't that much of a stretch that the surviving assassins from the initial attack had used a smoke pellet to give them cover as they attempted to escape. Obviously they hadn't made it.

All except for one.

There was a set of footprints, brown from the dirt the corresponding shoes had stepped in. They led all the way to the far side of the roof and ended. Someone had managed to get away and leaped off the roof to do so.

Aside from trying to remove ruined bullets from the brick walls, there wasn't much left to do. That only left one place left: the sniper nest. Considering how many bullet holes that were present, the sniper wasn't too afraid of leaving bullet casings behind. It was just a matter of finding them. Walking away from the far side of the roof, he came to the other end, grapple in hand. Without a word, Batgirl stood up and followed him while walking on top of the ledge.

Firing their grapples, the two Bats were sailing through the air shortly after. They traveled over a couple of rooftops, not bothering to stop. Batman wasn't expecting the sniper to be a couple rooftops away, so there was no point in checking every one he came across.

By the time he had covered the full length of the fourth building, however, he had begun to wonder. He had expected to see some signs of a shooter by then. The fifth roof only reinforced his worry.

However, once they reached the sixth roof, they found something. It was higher than the previous buildings he and Batgirl had ran across and it provided a good view of the building with the assassins. There were scuff marks on the roof's ledge, indicating the use of a kickstand to steady the high-powered rifle.

And much to his delight, he found a bullet casing—two in fact. Picking them up, he eyed them, taking note of a series of numbers on the casing's side. He could use this to track what type of bullet it was and what gun it came from.

That would have to take place at the Cave, though. Scanning the roof to ensure he had footage of it for review, he then looked to his teenage chaperone. "We're heading to the Cave," he told her, which earned him a sharp nod in return. There was a part of him that felt concerned by her silence, but then, perhaps she was going back into old habits. She never spoke with her mask on, so maybe that was the personality she had made for herself.

At least, that's what he hoped.

* * *

The elevator slowed to a jolting stop. Ra's continued to stare at the elevators doors until they parted before him, revealing a wide open loading dock.

Ra's had no issue with leaving through the back door. Only prideful fools insisted on passing through the front and he was no such fool. Survival was the most important thing and if that meant withdrawing in the face of the enemy, then so be it. He would do so, his head held high. Others may call him a coward, but they did not live for much longer.

It was quiet in this wide, cement room. There were a series of vehicles parked near the metal, rolling gate, and it was here that the Eternal Man with his right hand man at his side walked towards. The rest of his men would delay their attacker—or attackers as the case may be—until he had left. He had been unable to locate Talia and the child, but he was certain his daughter would see to their own safety.

Suddenly, a door off to the left ripped off its hinges and went sailing through the air. Snapping his head towards it, Ra's observed smoke pouring through the doorway. Considering there had been a lack of an explosion, he was quite certain the force that had torn the door from its frame was not an incendiary. Most likely it had been kicked down.

Emerging from the smoke came a masked man in red and black, his left hand an actual gun. The man took aim with his weapon, pointing it right at the Demon's Head. "You are leader, I presume," the man said evenly, his Russian accent thick.

"I am," Ra's acknowledged as he turned to fully face this man. This was the man that had used his own men to find their base. This was not a man to underestimate. "Though I don't believe I have heard someone of your caliber."

"I am the KGBeast," the man boasted, taking a few steps towards him to close the distance between them. "None have ever escaped me."

"Then I suppose you are the one that has attacked my men."

"Da, I am."

"Then allow me to acknowledge your cunning. It is not often my men are so easily fooled."

This KGBeast did not preen. He merely gave a nod in acceptance. Pity, he would make for an effective agent. "I suppose you are not interested in joining my cause," he said.

"That is bad business. Once I have taken contract, I do not renegade. I see through."

"Admirable. I can pay you handsomely for your trouble, KGBeast. I'll even reward you for killing your employer—double whatever he is paying you."

"A generous offer, but I must decline."

This was the part this KGBeast would have gunned Ra's down. He knew this because he had executed many a foe during such exchanges himself. However, unlike his refusals, there was someone KGBeast had not accounted for and had clearly paid little mind to. Before he could even fire his weapon, a fist slammed into the side of his face, sending the man stumbling in the opposite direction.

"Infidel!" Ubu roared as he drew a leg back and swung it forward, ramming a kick into KGBeast's unprotected abdomen. Immediately, the Russian wrapped his right arm around Ubu's leg to steady himself as well as restrain the manservant. Crossing his gun hand across his body, he took aim at Ubu's face.

In turn, Ubu shot an arm up, his forearm colliding with the side of the gun and pushing it to a side. A shot was fired from the weapon, the bullet passing by the bald man's shoulder harmlessly. The cement wall took the brunt of the force the bullet hit it with, large chunks breaking off and clattering on the floor.

Though restrained, this did not stop Ubu from continuing his assault. Raising his left hand up, fingers curled like talons and the palm prominent, he thrust his hand towards his foe, slamming his palm strike against the side of KGBeast's face, his head snapping to a side. The blow caused the assassin to stumble, releasing his hold on Ubu's leg as he sought to regain his footing.

This caused the masked man to turn his back towards his foe—a grave mistake. Ubu immediately pounced on this as he rushed the man, leading with his shoulder.

Suddenly, KGBeast leaped into the air, spinning around as he did so. Swinging a leg, the Russian perfectly timed his strike as he slammed a kick against the side of Ubu's face, causing his head to jerk to a side and stop his charge.

Landing back on the floor, his right profile to Ubu, KGBeast made a fist with his right hand and extended it out in front of him. Twisting his body to the side, he delivered a backhand blow across the side of Ubu's face, snapping his head back the other way, spit flying from his mouth. As his body came to fully face the manservant, KGBeast then raised a leg up and kicked out with it, sending a front snap kick to Ubu's chest.

The kick landed with serious force. However, the instant it had, Ubu's arms shot up and wrapped around his foe's foot and ankle, trapping the foot against his chest. A scowl appeared on his face just before he twisted the foot and ankle into an awkward angle.

KGBeast let out a grunt from discomfort, but that was all he allowed. Jerking up his weapon hand, he fired a shot at Ubu point blank. Seeing the arm moving, however, Ubu's eyes had widened and he dove to a side just before the shot was fired. Unfortunately, he had to relinquish his hold on the Russian's leg to do so.

This was an even match thus far. As Ra's watched, he could predict different outcomes from this battle, ones that went in favor of Ubu and ones for the KGBeast. Regardless, it would be after a long, drawn-out fight and he had no desire to watch. Ubu would keep his foe's attention for the foreseeable future.

Spinning on his heels, Ra's resumed walking towards the parked vehicles. Without his manservant, he would have to drive himself, a small indignity, but one he would suffer through.

* * *

Shiva was not happy.

She had just trudged her way through a sewer, traveling who knows how long through darkness and shit. Her clothes were stained and saturated from the muddied waters down there, semi-solid gunk stuck to the bottoms of her shoes. There was no doubt that it was stool and she loathed the footprints she left in her wake because of it. Her face had smudges of grime on it too, some of which was in her hair. And then there was the stench. Lord did she stink. There was no telling how long it would take to get it off of her person and out of her offended nostrils.

As if that wasn't enough to put her in a bad mood. As she returned to Ra's latest base of operations, she found the place had been under attack. Part of the building was still smoldering at its base as smoke rose into the night sky. There was an absence of police and firefighters, so she felt this blaze had only been started recently.

If that was the case, the attackers should be close by.

Upon entering the building, she found many of Ra's men slain. Some had been shot while others were brutally beaten to death. There was even the remains of a motorcycle up against a wall. At some point, someone had fired a bullet into the gas tank and blew it to pieces, if the scorch marks and the many burnt corpses were any indication.

Undoubtedly, whomever had attack was highly skilled. Shiva stalked their trail, finding it easy. All she had to do was follow the bodies and there were many of those. She only glanced at the fallen men, eventually not even giving them that much attention. It was becoming clear to her that all of this was the work of one man. The way the bodies were lying about the floor, or leaning against the wall, she could accurately read just how each man was killed. She knew what a broken neck looked like, or how ribs caved into the thoracic cavity to puncture the lungs, causing internal bleeding. She could tell where each blow had landed and what damage they had done, all in the blink of an eye.

Eventually, she came to an open doorway, one with the door removed. Through the opening, she could hear the sounds of a fight, indicating that someone was still alive. Maintaining her pace, Shiva reached the doorway and scanned what became a loading dock to her.

Immediately, she recognized Ubu, Ra's right hand man. He was currently fighting a man dressed in red and black and was holding his own. The masked man was as well, indicating that both were either on the same level, or one was just a hair better than the other. Shiva also could have made the argument that one was fighting up to their competition, or playing down to it as well. Seeing as this was Ubu and Ra's would have never allowed an incompetent fighter to protect him, it was likely her first hypothesis of equal fighters.

Currently, both men were grappling with each other. They stood side-by-side, their massive arms wrapped around each other's heads and shoulders. They were as still as statues, slight tremors rippling through their muscles as they strained against their foe as much as they fought for dominance.

It was like that for several seconds before something happened. Shiva saw it before it even happened. Ubu slid a foot behind his opponent's and kicked it out, throwing the masked man off-balance. As he was tripped, the man managed to slip his head out of Ubu's headlock, an unintended consequence. With both arms, he shoved Ubu away as he stumbled back a few steps, Ubu doing the same until both men regained their footing.

Right then, Shiva took note of the gun on the masked man's left arm. The man held it at his side rather than take aim at Ubu, instead opting to study his foe. These two must have been at it for awhile for such an action to be taken. Each was trying to figure out a new tactic to take lest they keep up their fight forever.

Perhaps it was time for her intervention.

With a sharp rap of her knuckles against the door frame, she immediately got the attention of the two men. Both jerked their heads to look towards her, Ubu the only one to flinch from her presence.

"My Lady," he immediately greeted her, though he did not drop his guard.

"You have your hands full, Ubu," she returned evenly as she began to saunter into the room. "I assume this is the man attacking?"

"It is, my Lady."

The masked man pivoted on his heels, turning to face her as he pointed his gun hand at her. "Stop now," he demanded. "The KGBeast will not hold back against women."

Shiva did not do as ordered, taking a few more steps until she was perhaps a couple feet away from this so-called KGBeast. Only then did she stop. "So you are a beast," she remarked casually. "I fear no such animals."

"And you will have no time to regret that."

A small smile appeared on Shiva's lips as she saw the muscles in KGBeast's arm stiffened as they prepared to absorb the weapon's recoil. The dark-haired woman swayed to her left just as the gun fired, a bullet whizzing right by her head even as she took another step forward. Seeing the gun shifted over a hair to fire at her again, she shifted to her right, again feeling a slight breeze as a bullet was fired and passed right by her.

In an instant, she had a hand up, grabbing onto KGBeast's arm right where skin ended and the weapon began. Pulling on the arm while simultaneously leaping off the floor, she swung a leg through the air and delivered a kick across the side of her foe's face, snapping his head to a side. The force of her blow caused the man to actually lift off the floor, just enough for him to go falling to the ground, where he landed on one knee and used his free hand to brace himself. As he knelt on the floor, Shiva also began to fall, only she landed on her feet while still holding onto the man's arm. This caused his arm to cross over his body as she stood to his right, her back angled towards him.

Lightning fast, she released her hold, the fingers of her hand stiffening straight as her thumb curled into her palm. She then shot her arm down the length of KGB's extended extremity, curving inward so that she delivered a forceful chop to his throat.

Immediately, the masked man gagged as his windpipe was crushed. She drew her hand back even as KGBeast's raised his own to grasp at his throat, attempting to massage the pain out of it. Pivoting on her on feet, Shiva began to spin around her foe, raising the arm over other arm and held it bent at the elbow. As she came to stand with her back to her opponent's and off to a side, she then jerked her arm back, ramming her elbow into the back of the man's skull, his head jerking forward from the blow.

Again, she was spinning, which had the effect of her appearing not to have stopped at all, she came to stand on KGBeast's left side. By then, the man was retaliating, swinging his arm to attempt a backhand blow. It was a move of desperation considering she had left him breathless with one blow and dazed with another.

Raising her left hand, she caught the swinging arm, stopping it cold. With her right, she raised it up, preparing a palm strike with it. In an instant, she thrust it forward and slammed her palm just above the man's elbow. This caused the arm to hyperextended and then snap the bone an instant later.

An animalistic scream tore out of KGBeast's mouth as his whole body went ramrod straight. Dispassionately, Shiva released the arm, allowing it to drop to the masked man's side, where he promptly grabbed it with his other hand.

Sliding over a step, Shiva stood right behind her disappointing foe. Her hands raised up and she placed them in familiar places against his forehead and chin. With practiced ease, she snapped the man's neck, hearing the sound of vertebra breaking echoing throughout the room.

Immediately, KGBeast's body went limp and she allowed it to collapse to the floor in a heap. Shiva didn't spare it another glance as she strolled around it and approached Ubu. By then, the larger man was kneeling on the floor, head bowed. "I suppose we should go rejoin your master."

"Yes," the manservant replied. "This way, my Lady."

* * *

In regards to the KGBeast scene, I wanted to try out narrating the scene in a Russian accent. Some of the disjointed sentences and missing words are because of this. I tried this once in _The Sixth Move_ with the Penguin and a Cockney accent and while it was a nice change of pace, I didn't feel it was worth continuing. KGBeast's came out better this round, I think.


	9. Arrows Of Green And Black

Green Arrow had always had that nagging thought in the back of his head that one day, he was going to meet someone just like him. That's kinda how these things went. You're involved in these crime-fighting escapades for so long that eventually, you meet someone who is like you, but your opposite.

They would have the same skills as you, be able to move similarly to you, were as smart and tactical as you, but only stood out in one area. They were willing to kill and you weren't.

That day had finally come.

The area was a storm of arrows, and he was adding to it with a bunch of his own. He hadn't been this on-edge in a long time as he ran for his life, leaving a trail of arrows in his wake, and no, they weren't his arrows.

Pulling up quickly, he stopped himself from entering the path of an arrow that definitely would have hurt had it landed. Instead it stabbed right into the ground maybe a foot away. Great, the guy was aiming for where he was going to be now. How nice.

"Always my luck, isn't it," Arrow muttered to himself as he ducked behind a dumpster. The arrow-wielding vigilante winced as he heard several "thumps!" striking the thin metal sides. That was a bit too close for comfort.

However, it gave away where the black archer guy was.

Slipping out an arrow from his quiver, he notched and aimed up, going over several quick calculations in his head before adjusting slightly and firing up into the air. His bowstring was still strumming as to pulled out another arrow, silently counting down the time as he did so.

He heard the pops and crackles as his first arrow detonated in midair, which was nothing more than a trick arrow to catch everyone's attention. Slipping out from behind the dumpster, he fired his second arrow, already mentally congratulating himself. He could see the light from the trick arrow, which gave away the dark-clad archer, a sight that only lasted for a second. It was a good thing he only needed a second.

Arrow was already running in the direction he had seen his opponent, counting on the guy to dodge. Playing a game of long-range tag where the result could end in death was not his idea of a night on the town. Pulling out a couple more arrows, he fired them one at a time, mostly to by time as now he was getting close enough to make out an outline of the other guy.

Sheesh, maybe he ought to consider investing in some dark-color uniforms. Nah, that's Batman's thing, not his.

He was about there, but tall, dark, and copy-catty was pulling back a notched arrow. Alright, he needed to time this just right and...shit, NOW!

Letting himself fall back but allowing momentum to push him forward, the vigilante skidded across the ground on his back, much like a baseball player sliding to home base. Unlike a baseball player, he had his legs ready to ram into the other archer's legs and trip him up. All this happened while the would-be lethal arrow was fired and nearly scraped against his masked, but all too handsome face.

The Pretty Bird would not have liked anything happening to his mug.

Their collision elicited a pained cry from his opposite number, causing him to fall to the ground. Thanks to Green Arrow's momentum, he slid right beneath the guy, so that he landed somewhere behind him.

Spinning and pushing himself back onto his feet, Green Arrow practically leapt at the other bow-wielder as the man was pushing himself back up, swinging his bow around to aim at him. Knowing already what the other was planning, the vigilante was able to kick his leg up and knock the bow to aside, preventing the dark archer from taking aim at him.

Reversing, Green Arrow swung his leg back, attempting to land his heel into something hopefully fleshy. Predictably, his dark counterpart blocked. While he expected this, he was ready with a follow-up, jumping and twisting his body to swing his other leg and _bam!_ Right in the kisser.

Falling to the ground, he caught himself by planting his hands on the ground mere seconds from impact and scrambling to get back onto his feet. No sooner had he spun around that he was getting tackled by his black doppleganger here, the man's shoulder digging into his gut. With a grunt, Green Arrow dug his heels into the pavement, refusing to fall down.

In response, the dark archer landed some jabs into his side—ooh, kidney shot! Raising an arm up, he brought his elbow down into the man's back once, then twice before giving up on that and grabbing the guy however he could. Time to use some raw strength here and see if he could get this bastard off of him.

Abruptly, the killeing arrow-slinger broke off, shoving the Emerald Archer's hands away as he did so. Unfortunately, it left the vigilante open for a punch that decked him pretty could across the face, causing him to move back a step. A second blow made his head snap to a side, but it served as a wake up call for him to catch a third punch before it could land.

And that was a foot getting him in the stomach. Son of a bitch had somehow picked his leg up and kicked straight into his gut and did it in close-quarters too. Pushing aside the agony, he wrapped an arm around the leg and jerked it upwards, throwing himself forward and making the bastard lose his balance.

For a second, he was on top of the other man, but that leg was still in a position to kick him off, which it did. While the black-clad archer was rolling onto his front, Green Arrow was getting back onto his feet and moving in once more. The other guy was snapping his head up just in time for the Emerald Archer to land a jab to his face. Ha, didn't like it as much now, did you?

Then his follow up punch was caught, much to his frustration, and his opponent was back on his feet again, putting the two of them into a grapple as Green Arrow snatched up the other's free hand.

"This...is getting...old," the vigilante grunted out, glaring into the face of the other archer.

"Agreed," the dark archer replied. Suddenly, he let go of the Emerald Archer's captured arm only to pulling out an arrow from one of the many quivers that were embedded in his outfit. Now, Green Arrow was catching that arm as the dark archer attempted to stab him with the arrow.

Muscles strained as the vigilante resisted and the murderer tried to, you know, stab. Both men made grunts, each attempting to break the stalemate with brute strength.

Then, the arrow-wielding vigilante jerked his other hand, the one holding onto the arrow-free arm, and released the limb, snaking it in quickly to uppercut the other man's gut. Air released from the guy and Green Arrow took the the chance to hit him in the face once more, putting an end to the stalemate once and for all.

But he wasn't done. Reversing his arm, he slammed his elbow into the side of the other man's face, reversed again and it was the fist in the other side. Wrapping both arms around the one that still held onto that arrow, the vigilante threw his opponent over his shoulder and onto the pavement below.

Picking up a leg, he kicked it down, hoping to strike the assassin's head and bring an end to this fight. The dark archer, for his part, jerked his head out of the way so the blow struck the pavement, sending a vibrating shock up the Emerald Archer's leg. For that, the bearded vigilante gave a grunt and pushed the pain aside.

The killer on the ground was spinning on his back, and successfully managed to kick Green Arrow's legs out from under him. Falling backwards, he instinctively reached out with his hands and planted his palms on the ground before pushing up and flipping over himself. No way was he going to let himself fall on his ass and leave himself vulnerable.

However, it seemed as if the black-clad assassin had a different idea. Instead of pressing forward, he was pulling back, snatching his bow up from where it had laid this whole time.

_Shit!_ Green Arrow thought, guessing that someone around here, not naming names, intended to turn him into a pin cushion.

So imagine his surprise when the other archer gave a sneer and threw down a smoke bomb, instantly covering himself in a gray-colored cloud. The arrows that came out of it were predictable, so the Star City vigilante had already been running for cover. On the plus side, the smoke blocked the shooter's sight so that bought the Emerald Archer some leeway in evading all the racing bolts.

Whipping out his own bow once more, he was notched and ready to fire, only to find that as the smoke cloud dissipated, the assassin was nowhere to be found. Immediately taking cover, he waited with baited breathes, searching for any sign of his enemy. Eventually, he came to the conclusion that he was alone, which was kinda given away when no more arrows were fired at him from any direction.

Okay, so who the hell was that guy and who did he think he was stealing his shtick? Seriously, whoever that was had to pick the bow and arrow as his gimmick?

Shaking his head, Green Arrow told himself that he was going to find that guy again, but first he needed to know what exactly he was up against. Maybe Bats might be able to help in that department.

* * *

Eiling was understandably furious, but the anger of the general was none of Flag's concern. It was unnecessary if they wanted to complete the mission at hand and would only delay them needlessly.

"They're nothing but common criminals! How did they manage to fight of some of the best soldiers this country has?" Eiling demanded not for the first time. Like the first time, and every other time, Flag gave the same answer.

"There is nothing common about these criminals, General. They are professionals and we underestimated them. We will do better next time."

There was going to be a next time, because his own pride demanded that the favor be returned. It didn't matter how many battles you lost, so long as you won the war.

"Stop giving me that shit," Eiling spat. "I want to know what you plan to do about it. I refuse to let your incompetence stop me from doing my duty here, Colonel."

That was a new one, and while initially angry, Flag shoved it down. Now was not the time for a fight, even if Eiling was spoiling for one.

"Shut up for a moment and listen to me," the colonel cut in, not missing how the general's eyes flashed with anger.

"These vigilante's are not only trained fighters, they are well-equipped too. One of them used a staff, and according to my team, this staff was able to fire controlled bursts of energy." This was a detail that had been on his mind for a while, one that he had time to go over during the flight away from the power plant. "What is someone like that doing with that kind of firepower?"

"How the hell should I know?" Eiling retorted. It was a response that was unneeded, especially since the question was rhetorical.

"I know what that weapon is, General; it's not my first time seeing it," Flag stated. "It's not something you can get your hands on, even through the black market. It's a highly regulated piece of weaponry that is used primarily by agents of the DEO and no one else."

Say what you will about his temper, Eiling was quick to grasp the significance of Flag's statement. "You mean Extranormal Operations? How do you know that?"

"I've been on a lot of missions, General, and had to work side-by-side with DEO agents before. I've learned not to ask a lot of questions until after all threats are eliminated," the colonel answered. "It's easier to ask 'what did I just kill?' than 'what is that?' The question I'm asking now is how does someone outside of the DEO have DEO weapons?"

"Do you think there's a leak?" Eiling asked, his demeanor serious. It was a legitimate question and one that did need an answer. The implications of it was alarming.

"A search for one will be needed anyway," Flag said. "My gut tells me that it's not a leak. More likely, a former agent; only that type of person would have access to the knowledge and the training for that weapon."

"So if you follow the weapon, you'll find the vigilante," the general summed up.

"And the rest of them," Flag confirmed. "Intel reports that Gotham's vigilantes have been grouping together in recent weeks. They may have joined forces in a futile attempt to fight Bane. For us, it'll make it easier to shut them down, and complete the rest of the mission. We can't allow these rats to mess everything up now."

"You have a plan, don't you? You're going to take care of this." There was hardly a question in the general's statements. Eiling had figured out what Flag was going to do, and by his tone of voice, he was approving of it.

"I'll send word to my superiors and have them see what they can find out," the colonel stated. Pausing, he waited for Eiling's dismissal first. Once the superior officer granted it, Flag left the command tent, his pace quick and unrelenting.

Pulling a phone out from a pocket, he inputted a number he had long memorized and didn't have to wait long for a response.

"It's Flag. I need you to look into any missing, or stolen equipment from DEO. Also, see if you can't find out if there are any decommissioned agents in the Gotham area. There was an incident several hours ago and it requires follow up." He stopped talking and listened to the reply. "Yes, I'll make sure that we keep to the schedule and bring this embarrassment to an end. Flag, out."

Hanging up and pocketing the device, he pressed forward to where he had his team set up. They would be nursing the wounds to their bodies and their prides for the moment, but soon enough they would be going into action.

That favor would be repaid.

* * *

The bullet casing found at the scene of the dead Demon's Fang assassins were very telling. It was a .30 caliber bullet, custom-made. This bullet in particular was designed to fit in one to two specific rifles. Add in the skill level of the sniper and the list for the killer was very short.

In fact, Batman had a primary suspect, his image on the large computer monitor before him. The man's name was Floyd Lawton, better known as the hired gun Deadshot. His reputation for never missing a target was remarkable, along with his ability to bounce bullets off solid surfaces. That made for a very dangerous man.

And he was in Gotham, which was something the Dark Knight did not like. His presence was only gasoline to the fire that was already raging in the streets and there would assuredly be more dead before Deadshot was stopped. That he was targeting the Demon's Fang was a problem as well. Ra's would not sit still while his men were killed. He would find whomever was attacking and have them killed. There was no issue for collateral damage either and Batman was willing to bet the same mindset existed with Deadshot.

However, it was strange that an assassin of his caliber would be showing up in Gotham at this time. Clearly someone was paying a lot of money for his services. That meant if someone was willing to pay him, they were also willing to pay for others.

And there were only so many people that would be after Ra's al Ghul.

Bane was currently at odds with the Demon's Head; this was well known. However, there was also the US Government at play considering their isolating of Gotham and their attack on the local power plant. Either one had the means and desire to kill Ra's and his fanatics, though for differing reasons.

However, this made Batman wonder if Deadshot was the only assassin in town. A call to Oracle had been made to see if there was any other scenes of dead assassins and the computer hacker had found many more executions—for lack of a better description. There were many, many more groups of dead assassins all over Gotham and that wasn't including a bombing at a building downtown. The vigilante had been quick to recognize it as one of his properties.

That Ra's had moved into one of his buildings irritated him. The man knew that he was out of commission and had taken it upon himself to set up shop in a building with his name on it. That was galling. Yet, upon further investigation, Batman was surprised to find out Ra's had purchased the building from Wayne Enterprises, along with a number of other properties. While he doubted Ra's had personally seen to the purchase himself, his representative had to go through Lucius for approval.

What the hell had Lucius been thinking with that sell?

That was another inquiry for later. For now, he had more pressing matters. Huntress and Katana had been sent to investigate the bombing, only to find more Demon's Fang assassins killed there. However, they had found someone else there, a man named Anatoli Knyazev. He too was an assassin going by the name of KGBeast. He too had been hired to attack the Demon's Fang.

This was where Batman began to suspect Bane was the employer of these assassins. KGBeast's reported allegiances would never allow him to work with the U.S. The fact that he was responsible for a number of embassy attacks and linked to numerous U.S. ambassador deaths would have stopped that union. So Bane had to have recruited him.

So, if Bane was willing to bring in at least one assassin, then he was willing to bring as many as he wished. Until he knew otherwise, it was likely Deadshot was also working for Bane.

"Hey, Bruce," he heard Zatanna call out. Moving his eyes away from the computer screen, he turned his rotating chair to face the magician, finding her approaching him. "I just got a call from those Network guys. Apparently Green Arrow ran into some archer targeting the Demon's Fang."

That made three. It had to be Bane. "Did they give you a name?"

"Nope, but I do have a description. Guy wore a full body suit, black, had a goatee. Real handy with a bow and arrow."

Immediately, Batman turned the chair back so he could type the description into the computer. Soon after, another picture appeared of a man with dark hair and a dark costume—and more importantly he had a name. Merlyn the Archer, proficient with a bow and arrow and was linked to many assassinations.

His hand tightened into a fist. He had expected there to be an escalation with all the people trying to take over Gotham. That more were being brought in was infuriating. And these men would not be that easy to defeat either. There was a reason they were active—they were too good to be caught.

"It looks like a lot of things went to shit while you were gone," Zatanna surmised, her words echoing this thoughts.

"We have a minimum of three assassins hired, two of which are currently active. The one that attacked Ra's base would have forced him to relocate. We can at least pinpoint his location due to his purchasing a number of my properties."

Zatanna came to stand next to his chair, resting a hand on the top of it. "Why would you sell to that maniac? I thought you knew better."

"I didn't. Lucius no doubt did since all land purchases run through him. He wouldn't of known who they were, or what their intentions were. At the very least, that's narrowed down where Ra's can go, so finding him won't be as difficult."

"So this is more of a blessing in disguise sort of deal. I like it."

There was another presence then, this time on the opposite side of his chair. He didn't even need to look to know it was Cassandra. "What do we do first?"

"We need to know more about who else is in the city and who they're working for. Had the U.S. Government not attempted to knock out power to the city, I would have said for certain it was Bane. However, the Government can and would allow their own operatives to come through their blockade. On the other hand, each of these men are skilled enough to find their way in as well."

"All we can say for certain is that Ra's al Ghul didn't," Zatanna added. "I don't know about you, but not everyone in the Network is ready to take on these kind of guys."

"We'll have to coordinate as best we can," Batman replied. "None of the inexperienced vigilantes are to be on their own and must be with an experienced member, preferably one of the Birds."

"This still doesn't answer Cassandra's question," the dark-haired woman pointed out.

He was quiet for a moment. "We need to limit all the actors in play here. The Government will keep as many people out as possible, so we'll need to use that to our advantage. With Bane bringing in assassins, we have to remove them as soon as possible. Ra's will being doing the same on his end, but we don't need him to get desperate enough to call in the Seven Men of Death."

"Who are they?" Cassandra asked.

"Top assassins, very tough, name from a bad kung fu movie," Zatanna immediately answered, a call back to the meeting with the Network. That last description caused Batman to turn his head to glare at her, which the magician shot back a winsome smile in return.

"These are our immediate plans," the dark-clad man slowly continued. While Cassandra most likely meant who was part of the group, he honestly didn't have an answer. It would be an entirely new group now since the last incarnation was defeated years ago and Ra's was never one to keep people around that failed him. "There's also some long range ones we need to implement."

"And what do those involve?" Zatanna asked.

Batman regarded the computer screen. "A very old acquaintance of mine that I finally reconnect with."

* * *

This was going to be the last time he was forced to move. Unlike the previous buildings, this one had been festering with squatters and derelicts. They had treated this place like a toilet, lounging on rotting bed mattresses and soiled newspapers. Drug needles were scattered all over the floor on every story. Every so often, there was a barrel with a fire burning from within it.

When the Demon's Fang descended upon this place, all of them had been killed. No one would notice their disappearance, nor would anyone care. These were people that had been shunned by society and they shunned it in return. Disposal of the bodies would be a chore, but nothing too onerous.

Ignoring the blood and excrement, Ra's stood out of the way as his men removed the cadavers, the odor from their grime-covered bodies offending his nasal passages. The building was being secured from the top floor to the bottom and he would wait until a sanitized area was created before he began to become comfortable.

Bane had certainly outdone himself. He had not expected someone as prideful as the masked man to seek outside help as he had. Zsasz had been one thing, but this was different. Undoubtedly, there were more than just the KGBeast. There had to be more and he had to find out who they were. KGBeast was no longer a concern thanks to the timely arrival of Lady Shiva, so she was more than capable of handling this threat.

For the time being, he would not call in his Seven Men of Death. There was no need for the total destruction of Gotham as of yet. That would also draw the Detective's attention and he did not need that man solely focused on him. The Detective would be concerned with eliminating all threats to his precious city, so his attention would be divided. Any change in that status quo could end unfavorably for him.

"Father!" Talia's voice carried far and wide, earning the Eternal Man's attention. Tilting his head to a side, he saw his daughter storming towards him, a look of pure panic on her face. "Where is he?" she demanded frantically.

Ra's raised an eyebrow in response. "Where is whom, Daughter?"

"Damian," she responded immediately as she came to stand before him. "I cannot find him anywhere."

Ah, the child. "I do not know."

Talia's head immediately whipped around, causing her long, dark hair to swing around her head. "He's never been away for so long," she continued to fret. "I must find him."

Ra's cared very little for this topic. There were more important things than a missing child to be concerned with. "I'm sure he's behaving like a little boy. He must have gotten lost as we withdrew from our previous headquarters. He is somewhere around here."

His daughter immediately shook her head in response. "No, Father, he was with me during the initial evacuation. The last anyone saw of him was during our journey here. Now no one can tell me where he is."

So the boy was lost somewhere in the city. That could be problematic. Talia was loyal to him and enjoyed his utmost confidence. However, the moment the child had arrived, she had given into her innate maternal instincts, protecting him like a mother would. With the child missing, she would only be focused on his well-being and Ra's could not afford that distraction. In addition, Bane had seen the boy and if he were to find him, he could use the boy against him.

"You may take a patrol unit to search for the boy," Ra's told her, a look of relief appearing on her face. "Do it quickly. There is still much we need to accomplish before Bane's next attack."

Talia bowed her head before she took off. This left Ra's alone once more. Hopefully this missing child episode would resolve itself quickly. He needed Talia ready at a moment's notice. These new assassins had clearly demonstrated they were superior to the average ninja and Talia's skills exceeded those.

No matter what it took, Ra's needed to show Bane he could take any and everything he could throw at him, and return it in full. Anything less was unacceptable and a sign of weakness. If there was one thing Ra's al Ghul was not, it was weak.


	10. Deal At The Docks

"Get a move on, gents! Bane's gonna be expectin' the next shipment any day now," Cobblepot ordered, gesturing widely with one of his stubbly arms.

The short man was waddling down the docks, using an umbrella as a cane. There was really no need to use it as such since he didn't have a noticeable limp. By all accounts, the man was in good health.

Yet, that umbrella had a sinister nature to it. Cobblepot had a habit of weaponizing them, so anyone that assumed he was helpless would be getting a shotgun blast to the face, or their throat slashed open when they least expected it. It was good camouflage for a weapon.

Perched on the top of a crane, Batman watched the small man and his entourage supervise the docks. Cobblepot had one of the few remaining supply lines to the city, his method still unknown. There was another shipment of Bane's coming in and considering the port was on the coast, the shipment would be delivered by boat. It would have to be a small one, perhaps the size of a cigarette boat since the National Guard was blocking off all entry to Gotham by sea.

That was the least of Batman's concern. Glancing away from Cobblepot, he took count of all the workers laboring and the armed guards that patrolled the perimeter. From his perch, he watched as one-by-one, the guards would vanish from sight. Zatanna was hard at work knocking those men out with her magic, ensuring there would be no surprises. The same could be said of the workers too as they would stop their work, then dropped to the ground limply. Most likely the magician was using some sort of sleeping spell.

That was to one side of the docks, however. Looking to the other side, there were more men still patrolling and working, but they too were starting to drop in numbers. Batgirl was having to physically take out the guards on her side, thus why she was lagging behind Zatanna. He had originally wanted to help, but the younger woman had steadfastly refused him. She had only accepted that he keep an eye over everything.

Normally he would have denied that request, but there was something else afoot going on. He could sense it. The situation was different, but it was as if their roles had switched. It wasn't all that long ago he had been the one refusing to put Cassandra into danger, denying her her role as Batgirl. Now she was insisting she take on more of the load while he watched; it was like she was trying to protect him now.

She could be humored for now. However, that was going to have to change. The situation in Gotham was different now. Whereas they had seen Bane and the Demon's Fang fighting for control of the city, with the Joker doing whatever the hell he had been, the presence of Deadshot and KGBeast had raised the threat level. If Bane was willing to bring in such deadly men, Ra's would respond in kind and his access to such killers was vast.

"Are you two about done?" he hailed over the comm link.

Zatanna was quick to answer. "_I'm almost done. A couple more minutes, Mr. Impatient."_

Batgirl was slower to respond. A couple minutes went by before she replied, "_I am not done. Please continue to wait."_

Yeah, that wasn't going to happen. "Zana, when you finish with your side, help Batgirl," the dark-clad man ordered.

"_Yes, Sir,"_ Zatanna responded mockingly.

Doing another sweep with his eyes, Batman could see more and more of Cobblepot's men were gone. This was good enough. Returning his sights to the Penguin, he saw him approaching his location, moving underneath the crane.

Attaching the grapple claw to the top of the crane, Batman leapt off of his perch, his thumb pressed firmly on the firing button. Cable hissed as it flew out of his grapple gun, dropping him through the air as he closed the distance between him and the Penguin.

And then he stopped holding the button, which in turn stopped the grapple line from pouring out of the gadget. Due to the angle of his jump, the moment the line went taut, he began to swing through the air. Angling his body so that he was swinging towards Penguin's men, he extended his legs out in front of him, keeping them apart.

His feet simultaneously slammed into the faces of two of Penguin's men, the force he hit them with sending them flying off of their feet. The two goons crashed into a couple more of the bodyguards, sending all of them falling into a pile of body parts on the ground.

Swinging back up into the air, Batman released his hold on the grapple gun, his hands shooting down to his belt, where he pulled out a few shuriken. Twisting his body in midair as he flew, he then launched the bat-shaped shuriken, sending them whirling through the air as they closed in on their targets. One nailed a guard in the head, effectively knocking him unconscious. A couple more collided with the guns of the remaining men, knocking the weapons out of their hands as they cried out in pain and surprise.

A moment later and Batman landed with a solid _THUD_ on the ground. Cape falling all over him, the Dark Knight eyed the remaining men, finding the only ones standing were the two disarmed guards and the Penguin himself. "What the—?!" the short man was crying out.

And then Batman charged, leaping up into the air as his cape spread out behind him. The two remaining guards screamed as he closed in on them, landing right in front of them as his hands grabbed onto either side of their heads. Immediately, he cracked their skulls against each other, knocking them out, and dropping them to the ground once he released them.

This left Cobblepot as the last man standing. Stepping over the fallen guards, Batman stormed towards the short man, who was backpedaling as fast as he could, his hands held out in front of him as if to ward him away. "No, no, no, stay back, you—!"

He then cut himself off as he adjusted his grip on his umbrella, pointing its end at the Dark Knight. This was the only warning he received that the pointy-nosed man was up to something.

However, he was already responding. Throwing an arm out, he swung his forearm out as if to block an incoming punch. This resulted in his arm colliding with the umbrella and knocking it to a side. An instant later and a shotgun blast fired out from the umbrella's tip.

A scowl on his face, Batman shot his other hand out, grabbing onto Cobblepot's collar and lifting him up into the air, the short man's legs dangling below him. Immediately, Penguin let go of his umbrella, dropping it to the ground as he began clawing at the vigilante's arm.

"It's been a long time, Cobblepot," Batman growled.

The Penguin went still. "No…" he whispered. "It can't be." Then his voice began raising. "It can't be! You're dead!"

"Is that what you think of me?"

"Bane snapped you in two, ya freak! You can't be back!"

That was enough of that. Balling his free hand into a fist, he then slammed it into Penguin's face, causing him to cry out in pain. "You're getting shipments into Gotham, Cobblepot, specifically for Bane. I want to know everything you're bringing in for him and who you're getting it from."

The Penguin spat at him, a mixture of spit and blood hitting him against his face. "I ain't gonna do nothin' to 'elp you, Bats. I'm a legitimate businessman now and there's nothin' you can do ta stop me!"

A nasty grin then spread across the man's face. "I even got tha blessin's from Gordon 'imself. Go on, ask 'em if ya don't believe me."

Batman knew exactly what Cobblepot was talking about. "There's just one thing you're forgetting, Cobblepot."

"And what's that, you winged rodent," he sneered.

Batman lowered the Penguin down so that their faces were closer. "I'm not Gordon."

Before the man could figure out what he meant, he slammed another fist into his face, then another punch into his ribs. A choked cry came out of Cobblepot's mouth as he struggled to breathe. "I'm shutting you down, Cobblepot," the Dark Knight growled then. "How many bones I end up breaking is all in your hands."

"Wait!" the Penguin cried out, thrashing his feet a little. "Ya can't do that! Don't ya know? I've been the one givin' Gordon his tips on Bane's staches. I've been 'elpin' you blokes!"

All so that he could play both sides. If Penguin thought he couldn't see that, he was dumber than he thought. And if he thought he could keep playing the sides until there was a clear winner, then he was worse than that. All it took was the wrong person finding out and he was…

An opportunity. That's what this was. Perhaps Penguin's arrangement with Gordon and Bane could be beneficial. "So you want to help me, is that it?" he pressed.

"If I didn't, you'd think I'd be talkin' with Gordon instead o' filling him with bullets? Bane is bad for business and I don't just mean me. Any 'onest folk will find it impossible to live under his rule." Cobblepot was on a roll now. "So it's best if someone got into his operation and began leakin' out his movements, alertin' the proper authorities."

"Is that right?" Batman brought his face even closer to Cobblepot's. "Then keep doing it. Keep supplying Bane with his requests. You tell me everything I need to know and things will stay the way they are. The moment you feed me bad information, I _will_ be crashing down on you _hard._ And unlike Gordon, I don't have anything to stop me from doing it."

With a shove, Batman tossed the little man away, the Penguin landing hard on his back on the ground. "We'll be in touch," he promised before he turned around.

And saw Batgirl standing right there. Just reading her body language told him she was not happy with him. Ignoring her disapproval, he walked passed her, counting on the girl to follow.

Which she did. The moment they were out of hearing distance, she spoke, "You were supposed to wait."

"Was I now?"

"That was the plan. Zatanna and I dispatched all of Penguin's men and then you took him down. We agreed on this."

"And I saw an opening and I took it."

"I didn't see you arrest him. You just threw him away."

Batman glanced to his protege. "I have a plan."

"And what plan is that?" she demanded heatedly.

He shook his head. "Not until we're safe from prying ears." He then raised a hand to his ear. "Zana, you can pull us out."

"_What am I, your personal teleporter?"_ he heard the magician groused. Apparently she too was unhappy with him. That made a second woman that was displeased. The Dark Knight held back a scowl. Clearly these two had ideas for how he was to operate in Gotham now and he was clearly not fulfilling them.

That was going to have to change.

* * *

His heart was beating hard as he climbed the stairs as fast as he could. He grabbed onto the railing so that he didn't fall down and hurt himself since that would be bad. He needed to get up to the top of the stairs and onto a roof. That would be the best thing for him to do.

Reaching the top, he shoved opened the door, seeing the top of the roof. As fast as he could, Damian jogged onto it, searching all the buildings around him in case someone was watching. He did not see anyone and felt he was in a safe place.

This city was a dump. It was messy and dirty and ugly. It was gloomy and it made people feel bad, which led to them doing bad things. It would be better if all the bad people were killed so that way they didn't hurt other people. That made complete sense to him. Yet, the police here only locked people up only to let them go after awhile. And what did those bad people do? They went back to doing bad stuff.

So when he and his mother and his grandfather came to this city, he thought they were going to do what so many others did not. There was that stupid Bane guy that was getting in their way, but he was nothing to them. His grandfather had proven that when they fought each other.

But now he was hearing Batman was back. He really wanted to meet him, but his mother kept telling him no. How could she tell him all of those stories about him and then tell him they couldn't meet him? That was stupid. She was stupid. He was going to meet him and tell him everything about him and tell him about what they should do to all the bad people in this city. If there was anyone that would listen to him, it was Batman.

It wasn't hard to leave his mother and grandfather either. When their hideout was attacked, he had snuck away and no one had realized. Of course, Damian had taken some tools to help him since he was going to find someone that was hard to find.

Walking behind the small, square building with the door to the stairs, Damian pulled off the backpack he was wearing and dropped it onto the ground. He then sat down and opened it, sticking a hand in to find his first tool. He held the bag open with his other hand as he searched. Finally, he found a walkie-talkie radio and turned it on. Static came out of the radio as a number appeared on a small screen.

Grabbing a knob, Damian turned it and changed the channel. He kept turning it until he heard a voice start speaking. "_Dispatch, this is Unit 78, over. We're doing_—"

Damian turned the knob, stopping the speaker. He had found the police channel, but that was not what he wanted. He knew the other crime fighters in this city used a radio signal to talk with each other. With this radio he had taken from his grandfather, he would find their channel and listen in. Batman would be on that same channel and he could find out where he was.

He kept turning the knob and would hear different people talk. They were news channels reporting the news, which he ignored. It was grownups talking about dumb stuff too, like some sports team, or the country, or religion. It was all dumb stuff.

Suddenly, there was a high-pitched squeal coming from the radio and Damian immediately turned down the volume. There was something going on with this channel, he just knew it. There was some sort of block that stopped other people from using it, but that would not stop him. He had grabbed this radio for a reason. Below the screen, there were buttons and he began pushing the ones he wanted to. This radio was a special one because it was programmed to get around the protections. He kept pushing buttons until he finally heard words.

"_Are you insane?!"_ a woman's voice said with anger.

"_That's what I heard," _a man replied. "_Batman was there and he let him go."_

Damian lit up. He found people that knew where Batman was!

"_How could he?"_ the woman asked, which caused Damian to scowl. Who was she to question Batman? "_He knows what that monster did to me, so why wouldn't he put him back in Blackgate?"_

"_I don't know, Barb."_ The boy made sure he remembered that name, Barb. It was probably short for Barbara. "_But he did seem to know what he was doing. Maybe he has a plan."_

"_I don't see what that could be. Where is he now?"_

"_Well, he's leaving the docks_—"

Damian grabbed his bag and reached into it again, this time bringing out an iPad. The moving of the pad caused its screen to turn on, just as he wanted. This was also something he took from his grandfather and it was going to help him out a lot. Putting in the passcode, the main menu opened. Damian pressed a finger on one of the icons, which opened up a window on the screen. He had made sure the program was on and ready to go just for this moment.

What a lot of people didn't know was that his grandfather had a satellite in space. This program he was using would turn it on so that he could look down on the planet, just like that Google Earth program, only everything was happening in real time. Soon a picture of the Earth was on his screen.

Quickly, Damian began zooming in, putting the view right onto Gotham. Then he zoomed in closer, going for the east side of the city. He found the docks and then zoomed out a little. He wanted to see everything so that he could find Batman. Pressing a finger onto the screen, he dragged it across the screen, making the picture move. He started on the north end of the docks and moved it around the west side and towards the south.

Eventually, he found something moving down one of the streets, going away from the docks. Zooming in, he found it was a black car, one that had been changed from a normal car. That had to be Batman's, he just knew it. Dragging his finger on the screen so that he kept the car on it, he watched where it was going, noticing the car was going north.

He would wait until he knew where the car was going. That way he didn't miss when it stopped, or lose it. He would then go find where the car was parked when it finally stopped and then he would meet Batman.

He couldn't wait.

* * *

Crane wasn't surprised by the demand for an update. He had come to figure out that the Phantasm was one to cut to the heart to the matter, both literally and figuratively.

He was also getting used to that appearing-out-of-thin-air trick too. Apparently, it wasn't a skill only the Batman possessed. Hmm, perhaps one day he should learn how to do it as well. Heh, it was well documented how people were stricken with panic when the unknown snuck up on them.

"I'm happy to report that interruptions in the supply line will not be a worry for the time being. I've taken the liberty of selecting new pickups for the deliveries to be dropped off at, to decreased any more interference from Bane," the former researcher stated, leaning against a workbench with his arms crossed. "I'll be able to continue to make more of my toxin without delay...so long as your financial backing continues, of course."

A simple nod was what he received from that spectral man. Another man of few words as Crane had come to learn. It was very preferable to have in an associate. It beat having someone loud, which usually resulted in broken lab equipment.

"In an hour, I anticipate the arrival of more ingredients," Crane continued to report, not taking his eyes off his colleague in fear. "Ever since you've taken the matter of Bane's tolls in your hands...hand, everything has been meeting the schedule."

Again, without another word, the Phantasm turned and began to leave. This time, though, Crane spotted something odd. If he didn't know any better, he would have said the cape the assassin wore was a little too big for him. The only giveaway was if your were looking at the edge of the man's shoulders, and even then there was only a slight downturn in the gray-colored fabric. That man was thinner than he appeared, reminding the former psychologist of his own frame.

Well, no matter; that detail was too insignificant. He put it out of his mind and proceeded to return to the workbench behind him. There was so much to do and all the time to do it in.

"Crane."

He paused, a little surprised that the Phantasm had yet to leave.

Looking over his shoulder, Crane answered the query, wondering what his associate wanted.

"Where have all those people come from?" the skull-faced man asked, though that question sounded more like a statement.

Crane gave a hum. "Well, I felt entrepreneurial and wanted to start a little mass production. Those men out there are my employees, no more, no less. All they're doing is helping with my new venture. I hope that's not a problem for you."

There was no answer, and the killer only slipped out after a prolonged amount of silence. Seemed like his curiosity was satisfied.

There was a bit of lie in there, though. Entrepreneurial? Please, whatever would he have need of some private company? It wasn't as if he was going to be selling his fear toxin on the open market, if only because he'd have government agents of all stripes at his throat.

No, it was all a means to make large amounts of his brainchild. He was never going back to the days of never having enough.

Besides, he was working on a new venture, so that part was true. In a way, his partner would also benefit from it so there shouldn't be any objections.

Now that he was thinking about it, perhaps a survey of the operation was needed to be sure that everyone was doing what they were suppose to be doing. There was no need for any slackers or individuals set on intellectual theft. Whichever it could be, he had his ways for dealing with them. Really, if anyone knew how to strike the fear of God into people, well, it would have to be him.

Pulling on his mask and deciding to forego the black coat he had taken a fancy to recently, he strolled out of his private workroom and gazed at the large room just outside of it.

Large vats filled the area, some open to air to reveal a yellow-colored liquid sloshing within as it was being mixed. Others were in the processed of being filled with select chemicals and compounds, the men that were doing the pouring dressed in white-colored work suits and wearing cloth-based air filters over their mouths and noses. Lastly were the vats that were sealed off, storing the precious fear toxin that was a result of this large-scale manufacturing process.

As for the men, they had been the fruits of his recruiting labors, unfortunate souls who had nowhere else to go and had their employment opportunities limit by the brute wearing that distinctive mask. All had been desperate for money, and all were willing to ignore the minute details of the operation so long as they retained a salary.

Everything at this juncture was proceeding as planned. After doing a count of the closed off tanks, Crane came to the conclusion that he was going to need to start emptying them. That way, there would be more room to make more toxin.

Fortunately, he already knew what he wanted to do with it.

Why make a toxin like his if you had no plans to use it? Unlike the False Face Society before him, he had no intention of taking over a city, or really anything at all. His interests were in the academic, even now after all these years. His yearning to understand every learnable shred of what fear was dominated him, and he needed to know. He needed to know everything there was to know about fear.

Gotham would be a ripe enough location for the experiment he had in mind and the scale was something never seen before in human history.

"You!" he barked at a passing worker, one who stopped and looked up to him. "My good man," the costumed fearmonger greeted pleasantly, "I am in need of some transportation, specifically transportation for my concoction you and your fellow workers have been making. Can I count on you to find me something that meets my needs?"

The man stared at him, his eyes blank, before nodding slowly.

"Very good," Crane praised. "Take a couple fellows with you and see about getting your hands on some tankers. Don't worry, you'll still be paid."

The man nodded then turned to leave. No questions were asked, just how Crane liked it.

Turning his gaze to the entirety of his plant, he felt his lips curl upwards behind the mask. It was all coming together and doing so quite nicely. However, there needed to be a place where his toxin would be shipped.

It was a good thing that he had already set his sights on the Gotham Reservoir as a promising location.

* * *

Like a monolith, the machine stood stoically in the warehouse that had been appropriated for it. Jervis wiped the sweat from his brow, looking for all the world like a man who was accomplished.

It was a feeling that was rightly so. Shaped like a pillar and extending high up towards the ceiling like one, the device he was hired to create was nearly done. Some plating needed to be welding on first for protection, but the important parts, like the circuitry and the wiring, were all complete. For all intents and purposes, it was complete.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Jervis gave a sigh, one filled with accomplishment.

Now, to proceed with the next step. Yes, yes, there was always a next step. In this case, that step was to put this marvelous machine of his into action, to put it through its rounds and make sure that it worked.

He didn't know this Bane person real well, but from the limited interaction he had had with the man, Jervis had the impression that he did not tolerate incompetence, or half-fulfilled promises even a little bit. Why, the masked brute looked like he would take pleasure in wringing his precious neck if he was inconvenienced in the slightest!

So it was in the slight tinkerer's best interest to make sure that everything worked like he had promised it would.

Taking a moment to put on his blue-colored overcoat, adjusting both the lapel and the bowtie he had insisted on wearing throughout the engineering process, he finished off by placing his hands on a top hat that had been placed on a console.

Dusting off invisible particles, he placed it snugly over his head, a perfect fit. It had been quite an endeavor to get his hands on one, and in a dark color no less. While Bane's men scoffed at it, it was apparent to Jervis how little these men knew about what they were doing, much less who they were working with.

Fitted in the brim of the hat was a headband, one identical to the one lost at the Duchess Hotel all those years ago. He had managed to pilfer the circuitry and other miscellaneous parts to make it and slip it into the hat's brim. Now both the headband and hat fit atop his head, his only true defense in what was soon to come.

Clearing his voice with a very loud "Ah-ah-ahem!" he attracted all attention towards himself, the brutish men given him questioning looks. Not quite the curiosity he had been hoping for, but what could he expect given the quality of his audience?

"I would like to thank you all for your aid and efficiency in this endeavor, and for the moment, I bid that you put down your tools and step away from the machine. We are about to conduct a test run into its functions so as to ascertain its capabilities. Please, stay close to one another and don't wander off during the test run, if you would please."

The hat-wearing man tried to give the most appreciative smile he could muster. The men, on the other hand, shared looks with one another and spoke in a rough Spanish accent that made him want to wince. There was nothing refined, or smooth in how they spoke, which was a shame since it was a beautiful language when spoken correctly.

No matter. Shifting his attention to the console before him, he hit the on button and waited in anticipation as the pillar-esque machine hummed into life. Critically reading the gauges, he nodded to himself when everything appeared in working order. So far, nothing looked to be malfunctioning, which meant he could move on to the next step.

Placing his hand on a large dial, he began to turn it slowly, eyeing the needles in the gauges as they ever so slowly moved to the right. Yes, yes, it was working as expected...though it seemed the one that read ventilation was moving a bit too fast for his liking. Best to stop at this setting and see what it could do.

After flipping several small switches, he reached for a small glass panel, one he raised up to cover the large, red-colored button that was nestled safely beneath it. Without further ado, he pressed it and waited.

There was nothing obvious outside of the continual humming of the machine, which was to be expected. However, the Mad Hatter directed his gaze to the men behind him, clasping his hands behind his back and almost rocking back and forth on his heels in excitement.

It took him a moment, but he was able to spy out the glaze that was forming over their eyes. Hmm, that was a bit too obvious, wasn't it? He was going to have to do something about that because that was not a good look. Oh well, best to continue with the test.

"Gentlemen, if I may be so bold, would you happen to tell me whom it is that you serve?" he called out loudly, almost obnoxiously in his opinion.

Instead of any ridicule or sneers, the men all stood straighter, more professionally, and answered in a strong, unified voice. "I serve only Bane. Only by his majesty and his will that I serve his glorious quest. My life is forfeit and to be spent by his will alone."

That pretty much summed up the fanaticism they already possessed. However, if you were to listen, you'd realized that, other than each man speaking for themselves, that they spoke with an English accent, and not a Spanish one.

That had been a deliberate choice; how else was he going to learn how effective his machine was? Even now, the machine's sinister purpose was at work, and not just by casting a spell of absolute obedience over these devoted followers.

Oh, this was too grand! Stupendous even! The giddiness he felt, why, he hadn't felt it in so very, very long. Alright, enough with the self-congratulations, there was important work that needed to be completed first. Going over the gauges once more, he frowned at one of the readings.

Now that wouldn't do, oh no, oh no, oh no. The range of this machine was nowhere near what had been commissioned. Oh dear, that was going to have to be addressed and immediately! More fine tuning it was.

As he powered down the device, a thought occurred to him, and it was tempting in its seduction. If he were to make some...adjustments to the programming…

No. No, no, no. There was no telling how effective that machine would be against a strong-willed mind. Even to Jervis, he knew the not-quite gentlemen were not strong-willed. Quite weak, if he didn't say so himself. Bane was another matter altogether, his very presence a clue as to the strength of his mind. He wasn't all muscle and brawn. If he resisted long enough, then Jervis himself would pay the price for any treachery he committed.

Then again, there was no guarantee he would remain among the living if he did exactly as he was told to do.

This was quite a quandary, wasn't it? Oh what to do, what to do, what to do…

He would have to think of it later. The confusion that the help was experiencing wouldn't last long. Any hesitation would be spotted and reported. He would have to be discrete if he were to preserve what mattered most to him right now.

But he was survivor. He would find a way.

It wasn't like he had the option not to.


	11. Bat Problems

You would think with the return of Batman, everyone involved with the fight to save Gotham would be relieved that there was someone who was competent enough to get things done and, you know, save the city.

Think about it. This was the Batman, the man who had fought who knows how many maniacs that had tried to take over, or destroy Gotham. Every time, he had managed to pull off an upset, or a victory, no matter who it was, or what the situation was. The calm he seemed to radiate and the company he kept was always welcomed. It also drew people to him, treating the Dark Knight like a leader.

This was the kind of guy that the city needed to fight Bane and all the other creeps that had swarmed into it.

So then what was Nightwing's problem?

The young adult was adjusting his boot, a change of costume because the other one was really starting to smell. Plus it felt right to put on something new, to really fit with the new energy that was empowering the Network right now. Yet, the young man wasn't...entirely...he didn't know how to describe it. Relief was something he definitely didn't feel, at least not to the extent that everyone else did.

It was just...why wasn't he more happy about all this?

Beside him, Red Robin was adjusting one of his gloves, balling his hand into a fist repeatedly to make sure that it fit snugly over his hand. "You look like you're constipated," the masked teen remarked. "Need anything for the plumbing?"

Nightwing grunted in reply. "I'm not blocked up, if that's what you're wondering."

"Then what's up with the face?" his former partner asked, looking up at him. Even now, after all this time and everything that had happened, the masked man was still taller than his counterpart.

He gave a sigh. Now someone was asking him to put what he felt into words. Why did he not feel like doing that? "It's nothing," he said instead, shutting the locker in front of him shut.

It was just the two of them in the locker room that was part of the Bat-bunker, the same place they had been using as their base of operations ever since forming the Network. It was so much more convenient than having to go back to that shipping container, which didn't seem to be a safe place to go to right now. Bane had been ramping up his presence in that area so it was best to stay away for a while.

"Doesn't sound like it," Red Robin remarked. "You know, you can always tell me anything. Like old times, you know?"

Old times. Something about those words struck a chord within him. Giving a snort, he shook his head before saying, "Maybe that's what I'm afraid of: old times."

"O...kay… And that means?" Obviously he had lost his old partner.

"I know we weren't doing great before, but we were doing it, whatever it was," Nightwing began to spill. Why? Because there would always be this part of him that felt he could say anything to Red Robin, to Tim. After everything they had both been through, who else could they trust more than each other? "But now that he's back, taking charge, it feels...it feels like the rest of us are being pushed to a side. Like the star of this crappy show is back and now no one cares about the other actors.

"I mean, are we going to go back to the way things were? Before Bane beat him up and he disappeared? Again? It scares me to even think about things going back to the old way. What happens if it happens again and someone else beats him and then what? We're back where we all started? I can't go back to that, not after everything."

Red Robin began to open his mouth, about to say something that he felt might make the older vigilante feel better.

Nightwing didn't give him the chance. "Please, don't say anything about Two-Face, or Jump City. I'm not in the mood to hear about either of those things right now."

You could almost hear a "click" as Red Robin snapped his mouth shut. Looks like Nightwing had guessed correctly what the teen was going to say.

Smiling ruefully, the young man found himself continuing, "What's going to happen once this is all over? Is Batman going to take over the Network? Are we going to become his little soldiers that he sends all over the place, to take care of what he can't because he's dealing with something else? I can't be his errand boy and I don't want to be. But what the hell can I do about it since this is the guy that always comes out on top?

"He's always fighting hard, is always several steps ahead of everyone. Meanwhile, I'm the guy that's stuck behind everyone's shadow and what's worse, because of me, Red Hood's gone. Dead. The fights that I need to win the most are the ones I lose. What good have I done other than make a mess even worse and that someone else has to clean it up?"

"Don't say that, Dick," Red Robin cut in, the mask over his eyes hiding a part of his frown. "You know damn well that you didn't make a mess, or make it worse. You guys managed to at least clean up some of it. Remember City Hall? We saved the mayor, without Batman. You guys stopped Hugo Strange and then saved his life. That doesn't sound like you making it worse."

"But we haven't fixed it either," Nightwing retorted.

Red Robin shook his head, looking away for a second. "Remember back when you called everyone together, when you suggested creating the Network? Do you remember what you said back then? About creating an united front and cooperating with one another? Do you really think that will change even when we've sent Bane packing? The Network is more than one person, it's greater than even Batman. It'll be here even when Batman goes away for the last time"

"That sounds nice, but you can't tell me you don't see how the others act around him. How they do what he tells them to do. I do it too and I can't find it in myself to say no, only go along with whatever it is he wants. I guess...I guess what really scares me is that Batman may be so great that not even the Network will survive him." He raised and pressed his hands against his face, finally voicing the worst of his doubts.

Now that it was out there, spoken aloud, it made it feel all that more real.

The one-man-crime-fighting-machine was back; what need would there be for everyone else? Let's not forget, he did not like other people out on the streets, following in his example either. There was a reason it was said that you shouldn't meet your heroes.

"Then what you gotta do is make sure it survives him," the masked teen stated. "You can spend all your time worrying about it, and in the end do nothing and let it happen. or...or you can start taking action. Don't let yourself get pushed aside."

"That's easy for you to say," he replied. "When this is over, you're heading back to Jump and all this will be a memory. You won't have to stick around and see how this all plays out."

"More like I don't have the choice," Red Robin chuckled darkly. "I saw the look he gave me when he found out I was back. He hasn't said anything yet, but the message is clear. He doesn't want me here. It's only a matter of time until he walks up to me and does that whole 'quit being a vigilante' bit. You know the one."

Yeah, Nightwing had caught the stare too, but hadn't commented on it. Apparently no one else had. Probably the only other person who would understand what that look was would be Huntress, since it was the lot of them that had teamed up to save his former partner during that Two-Face business.

"That doesn't change the fact that the Network goes only if you let it," Red Robin pressed. "There are times to go with the flow and other times to take charge. So grow a pair and take charge already if you're so worried about it."

Nightwing was tempted to ask the younger vigilante where all this was coming from. He checked himself first, already figuring that it had to be those misadventures in Jump. That was the only explanation other than spending all that time with that kid version of the Justice League.

"Maybe you're right on that part," he admitted, as painful as it was to do so. "But how do you take charge when you're working with Batman?"

Red Robin opened his lips, his tongue smacking against the inside of his mouth, then said, "You're on your own on that one."

"Oh, thanks a lot, coach." The older vigilante rolled his eyes at the cop out of an answer. Really, what had he been expecting?

"Maybe you can talk with the others, get a feel of what they're feeling," Red Robin suggested. "You might be surprised; they may feel the same way you do."

That was a big maybe there. There was a good chance that they preferred the leadership Batman did so naturally that they didn't care if the whole Network got shafted as a result. They had all come together out of desperation and a want to save their city. It was always so easy to fall back into old habits, after all.

But Tim was right. If he let things continue the way he felt they were, then this whole experiment, the Network, it would get tossed aside, or co-opted by the Dark Knight himself.

After all this time working on it, keeping it together, and building it to what it was becoming, Nightwing wasn't about to let all that time and effort go to waste.

* * *

It had taken some...time, but Cobblepot had managed to figure out where his masked business partner was. More time was wasted convincing those Spanish-speaking illegals to let him through, but finally, _finally_, the squat man with an umbrella in hand marched his way onto the large cargo ship where much activity was taking place.

He ignored all of it, zeroing in on Bane's large form and hurrying over. He felt before he saw those blank red eyes staring him down, the muscled hulk's body speaking for him. _Why are you here?_ That was the question that masked lumox was screaming through his body language.

Ignoring the colorfully dressed men who stood to one side, facing a thin, bald man who wore a dark blue suit and was holding what looked like an iPad, Cobblepot came to a stop in front of the Santa Priscan invader and stated for all to hear, "We have a problem."

That his accent was barely heard in his voice was a testament to the gravity of the situation.

"I do not have any concern about any incompetent you have," Bane retorted. "Handle your own problems before I find my patience gone."

The much shorter man bristled at the dismissal. This moron wasn't even taking this seriously! Was he that arrogant to ignore the warnings? That was how this city worked!

"There is nothing wrong about my niche of the operation. That's not the problem," he seethed out. "You messed up."

If Bane was barely tolerating him before, the accusation that he in some way was at fault was an execution in the waiting. "Explain," the mountain of muscle ordered, his tone challenging him to say one wrong thing.

Cobblepot was not going to be intimidated by it whatsoever. "The Batman is back."

There was nothing else that needed to be said. In fact, that was all that was needed to be said. Those few words explained the situation to a T.

However, from what the smaller man could read from Bane's posture and stance, the larger man didn't seem concerned whatsoever. Instead, there was scorn, which was voiced by a snort.

"Impossible," Bane stated. "I broke him. Even if he still lives, the injuries he sustained will prevent him from ever returning."

Oh my God, more of that arrogance. The Penguin was not in the mood to humor it. The memory of those eyes, those blank, white eyes that bored and mined into your very soul were still very real to him. He could never forget them; nobody could. It was a good thing he wasn't the type to cave into pressure and collapse.

"I beg to differ, compadre," Cobblepot retorted."Someone in the same outfit appeared and attacked my shipments. My men, your men, all were taken out. And then he's in my face. I've met this man before; I've smelt the stench of his breath; that was him. Either that, or he found a worthy successor. Regardless, it's a problem—"

"That is beneath me," Bane interrupted. There was a second's pause, and what thoughts were being entertained in that masked head remained a mystery to the reputable businessman. "I have already triumphed over the real Batman. This impostor is for you to deal with. Do as you wish with him, kill him, but I will not waste my time with a pretender."

Cobblepot could only blink his eyes dumbly at this dismissal. Had...had he heard what this...this..._idiot_ had said? He couldn't understand how Bane was treating this with contempt, like it was some kind of bloody chore to be taken care of by the help and not something that could potentially end with a large, black boot to the face.

Yes, he may have been playing the odds, working on each side to try and profit from both, but nothing had included the Goddamn Batman being involved. This stood to ruin everything, from his partnership with Bane to his liaison with the cops! The Batman didn't care about moral ambiguity, or survival by whatever means. Black and white, good or bad, that's all that went through that bastard's head.

There was no gray area in between.

From his peripheral, he sighted those cast of colorful characters again, but chose to ignore their presence despite the fact that he was the object of their attention now. Instead, Cobblepot preferred to place his energies into something more productive, like convincing Bane of the severity of the situation.

"This isn't going to end, Bane. He's not going to stop. He will jeopardize everything unless you nip it in the bud," he warned, reaching out with a hand when the masked giant turned his massive back on him. "Don't turn away from me! You need to deal with this!"

"The only thing I 'need' to deal with are my own objectives and this impostor is not worthy to be considered such. As I told you, handle it yourself, or consider our arrangement to be over. I will find someone else to take your place and with less whining," Bane snapped back.

"You can't. I'm the only one in the city who can move any kind of contraband past the Guard," he tried to argue back.

"Whoever said I would allow you to keep those channels?" Cobblepot heard the threat clearly; there was no need for him to elaborate. "You are expendable. I can always seize your operation and put someone else in control. Take care of your problem, or I will make sure you cease to be one."

With no further words, Bane walked off, clearly having no interest in heeding the Penguin's warnings. The bloody fool, to ignore when a Gotham native was sounding the alarm?

Perhaps he should jump ship…

"You. Shortcake."

And now his anger was being stoked again. Snapping his head away from the shrinking form of Bane, Cobblepot found himself glaring at one of the colorful men he had noticed earlier. Specifically, it was the one who wore a half black, half orange mask of all things. Bloody ridiculous, that was.

Yet, now that he was getting a closer look, he was noticing things he hadn't spotted before. This man and the others he had been standing with were different from the hired guns Bane employed. Those people were soldiers, glorified cannon fodder. These...gentlemen were professionals.

"Are you sure that you saw the Batman," the dual-colored masked man inquired, his question more a statement.

Now it occurred to Cobblepot that maybe these fine folk might be able to take care of this problem for him. However, he would have to tread carefully as they all looked like they could lose interest if he said one wrong word.

Still, he wasn't going to fake what he was going to say.

"I met him a handful of times," he explained. "Really, you only need to meet him once because you never forget that first time. Even now, I can feel the phantom pain from when he broke my damn nose. It is him, and if Bane here wants to play ostrich, he's gonna find out the hard way why you don't underestimate that menace."

"So you're positive?" It was the one in all black, though why did he have so many arrows sticking out from him?

"I'll give you a guarantee. No one forgets him. No one." Now his accent was really starting to color his voice again, a real sign that he was getting control over himself once more. You would think the more stressed he became, the thicker the accent would, but it was an odd quirk he was never able to explain away. The more serious a situation was, the clearer he became.

"That right?" the dual-colored masked man commented, a hand placing itself on a sword hilt.

"It sounds like you're wanting to go meet him," the gray-and-red-masked man jested.

"Only if it's the real deal. I'm not getting paid for a ripoff," came the retort.

"Anybody who can brin' me his head, I'll throw in an extra five mil," Cobblepot threw out.

The gray-and-red-colored man gave a whistle at the offer. "Not even low-balling."

"Anythin' havin' ta do with that son o' a bitch, I don't mess around. Come find me if you pull it off," the squat man retorted as he turned on his heel and stomped off, though such a walk made him look like he was doing a waddle.

Before he got too far away, he could hear that black-wearing arrow man comment, "I don't know about you two, but if the stories are true, I would be eager to set myself up against him. Do you think half the things they say about the Batman are true?"

Cobblepot gave another snort. He had thought these were professionals, and perhaps they were, but his gut told him he had just finished concluding business with a group of freaks.

As if Gotham didn't have enough of those already.

* * *

Gordon could always tell when someone was in a hurry. The military types were better able to hide it since their gait was always faster than the layperson, and they always seemed to be heading somewhere as fast as possible. General Eiling was heading for the command tent, so the Commissioner carefully and casually made his own way to his post to see if he couldn't hear something new.

He had some time to wait; turns out Eiling was the only person of note here, which was not what the Commissioner was hoping for. The colonel that had showed up a couple days ago tended to have more meatier content than any of the other Guardsmen that populated the area.

Then Eiling's voice raised, requesting that everyone vacate the tent. Gordon stilled, waiting with baited breath. Why make such an orderlike that unless you were about to either talk about something highly sensitive, or...or you wanted some alone time. The mustached law officer hoped it wasn't the latter.

"I don't understand it," Eiling suddenly spoke. "I don't know what the hell happened, but I got some damn senator poking around that power plant. When I made a trip up there this morning, you know, to get that damn place shut down, that bastard was there and I wasn't going to do it in front of him. Somehow he knew about what we were trying to do."

"Probably the plant owner is connected." That was the colonel and his damn soft voice. Gordon was beginning to think that the softness was deliberate and not something that was normal for that man. "It was risky to do it in the first place; more than Gotham receives power from that station."

"Would have sworn someone else told him, but that makes too much sense," Eiling grumbled. "What now? What do we do next now that there's too much heat around the power aspect of this operation?"

"We may not...shut it...now." Great, now it was getting harder to hear that colonel again. Gordon was more than sick of how he could only catch every other word. Though, if he were in the colonel's shoes, he'd be doing the same thing, but since he was the one listening in, he could relate to eavesdroppers better. "...other things...do." What other things? Since Eiling wasn't talking, the Commissioner could only assume the colonel hadn't stopped yet.

Suddenly, a car engine was revved to life, the engine sounding as if it was coughing itself to life before it roared into being, maintaining a steady hum. of course that engine had to be close enough to completely block out the colonel's voice, great.

"Damn it, stop talking in circles and be clear, Flag," Eiling demanded, his always-dependable voice loud enough to be overheard over the engine. "Don't just throw out random targets, just pick one already."

The vehicle was pulling away, so the outside noise was lessening. Unfortunately, whatever this Flag could have said was lost, only allowing Gordon to come in directly in the middle of what he was saying without any context.

"...maximum damage. Small hits are going to be shrugged off. So what...is drastic. Since...city is off the table, we go...utility."

Okay, Gordon could figure out where Colonel Flag here was going with this, and he didn't need to hear everything. It was obvious that the next target would be. With electricity continuing to enter Gotham, there was really only one other necessary city utility that could be cut off that would cause a lot of problems. They were going after the water next.

Already, Gordon could see this going badly. Once people on the other side of the river figured it out, there would be a rush for any place that had any kind of water product in it, whether it was by the gallon, or a small water bottle. City dwellers weren't accustomed to being denied water, not when it could be gotten for free at the nearest water fountain.

There would be more riots, probably worse this time since it wouldn't just be people mad about their new circumstances; it would be for survival, fighting over a precious resource that now was even more valuable.

And no, no one would drink from the river unless it was a last resort. It was a joke made on the late night shows that the water pollution in the Gotham River was so bad, it would either kill you, or give you superpowers. So much crap from common garbage to deadly chemicals had been dumped in there over the decades, and most likely still was.

And, of course, the weather forecasts predicted no rain in the immediate future.

Gordon didn't need to hear anymore after that. There would be some back and forth between Eiling and Flag, but the two would agree to a plan, one that would lead to shutting down the local water company. In this case, the biggest one would be the Gotham Reservoir. For the sake of the people in there, the flow of water could not be shut off. Even if it meant that it would take longer for Bane to be stopped, the Commissioner was not about to sacrifice ordinary citizens to death by dehydration to do it.

A couple calls were needed to be made.

Making sure he was wasn't stopped, Gordon left his proverbial eaves and stroll through the Guard camp, a hand in his pocket clutching onto the bat-shaped communication device. Since it had worked before, he was sure that it would happen again. All he needed to do was be inconspicuous and not draw any attention to himself.

Finding himself an isolated area, only then did he pulled out the device and hold it close to his mouth. "If you can hear me, you might want to get over to the reservoir. The Guard's going to try and shut that one down next. Do what you need to do, but make sure that the city is not cut off from water."

That should do it. In the meantime, he needed to get ahold of Sawyer and give her the heads up on what was happening on his end as well as get an update from hers.

Everything felt like it was on a tightrope, and they were all balancing dangerously, about to fall off at any second, or the first wrong move.

But walk it, they must. Losing Gotham whether it was to Eiling and the National Guard, or to Bane were not any options he liked, or was willing to accept. They were going to save this city. They could still do it.

It was going to have to be a lot of those small hits that Flag back there derided. It was a good thing then that Gordon knew how to make the most out of every small hit he gave.

* * *

Sawyer expected that she should have been surprised, but she wasn't. It wasn't the first time she found herself excluded from any sort of planning, or strategy meeting. Even in this day and age...but there was no use complaining about it. Petit was definitely of the old guard mentality.

But just because she wasn't invited didn't mean she couldn't listen in.

"Our undercovers think they've got something," the de facto leading personality that was Petit explained to those he had gathered around him. "It looks like some kind of safe house, or it's being used that way. Doesn't matter what it is, only that it's being used for something. We need to do more than check it out, and flat out take it out."

"Bill, we have no idea what we're getting unto. Did any of the undercovers get inside and see anything?" Sawyer was unable to place who had spoken, but she did like the question he was asking.

It was Tom Miller who spoke next, answering the question. "Not a one knows what's inside. Everyone's spooked and does not want to give themselves away. The best they have is the address and anything that's on the outside. At the very least, they have an idea of how to approach the place with the least amount of exposure."

"We don't have the time either to sit on our asses. We need to get in there," Petit picked up, asserting himself over the small grouping. "We can't wait for the Commissioner to find some way back here to hold our hands; we need to continue what we've been doing and take charge. We may not have reinforcements coming in, but this is our damn city and I will not lose it to anyone."

That was a little worrying right there. Petit was making this personal, which was something you did not do. There was a reason they had to remain objective, and that was so they could keep a clear head. Being hotheaded and aggressive tended to result in everything going sideways, which was not what they needed right now.

"When do you want to head out? We gotta make sure everyone's ready for this."

"We're going out tonight, within the hour."

"But Bill, that's way too soon! We need to make sure we're protected and have some ammo, and that takes time! We can't be ready that quickly."

"We don't have a choice and neither do the men," Petit snapped. "This is war and sometimes you don't have the luxury of time. The more time we waste gives those bastards more time to be ready for when we come. We need to get the area surrounded, snipers set up at these points," he moved a hand pointing out locations on what Sawyer assumed was a map. Whether it was a physical one, or a digital one, she was able to tell at this point, "and when we're set up, we go from different angles. We leave no escape and either they surrender, or we shoot them. That simple."

It sounded to the Lieutenant that Petit was really treating this like a war and was trying to play general. More than likely, he was of the armchair variety, but you didn't become commander of SWAT for nothing. Odds were he had a plan or two in case things went sideways, or so she hoped. She recalled the KnightLife Stadium and felt her expectations drop a bit.

The Commissioner had a better mind for strategy; he needed to be here to reign in Petit's gung-ho attitude. But he wasn't here and it was up to her to try to restrain it. It wouldn't be easy, especially if her male counterpart in there was determined to make this boys only for the time being.

Right now, though, the only thing she could do is relay her findings to the Commissioner and hope there might be something he could tell her that she could do to turn this thing around. It was times like these she missed having a flying man in blue to swoop in to keep casualties low. She immediately shook her head because that's what she was trying to get away from. She didn't want to depend on any Supermen anymore and Gotham was always the ultimate challenge.

It was her turn to go through a trial by fire and she wasn't about to let anyone do anything stupid while she was going through it. Squaring her shoulders and standing straighter, she left her little niche and headed straight into the meeting, speaking aloud with a casual, "What seems to be going on in here?"

A lot of heads snapped around to look at her, and to his credit, Petit showed no signs of disgust, or even arrogance. "Strategy meeting, Sawyer. Go back out and see to the patrolmen. I want you to start organizing hourly patrols in the areas of the city that we can control."

Hmm, so he was giving her an assignment to keep her busy and away from the action. Not a bad ploy, especially since he was giving her a task that was very practical. However, she was not about give in so quick. "What exactly are you planning? Perhaps I can be of assistance."

"This is not your area, Sawyer. What I told you to do is not a request, but an order. Do your job, Lieutenant," Petit stated. "I will not tell you again."

There was this gleam in Petit's eye, and that was the only thing that prevented Sawyer from pressing forward. She didn't like it, whatever it is that it signified. She felt as if she was suddenly in danger, except the threat was coming from a fellow brother-in-blue.

"Alright," she said simply and turned to leave. There was no sense in trying to provoke anyone here, especially when this could become a powder keg ready to blow at anytime. At the very least, it didn't appear as if anyone suspected she was listening in.

Nevertheless, there was her job she needed to do on top of the task Petit had given to her. It would be best if she kept her head low until the chance to do what needed to be done occurred. Unfortunately, that chance may only come after the bodies began to pile up.


	12. Guns and Arrows

Pieces of shit like Bane all craved ratholes. Take this desolated neighborhood for example. Weeds were growing up through the sidewalk, the surrounding buildings falling apart from neglect.

The building Petit wanted was the one with the lights still on. Whoever these spics were, they clearly were stupid. Yeah, let's turn on a light in an abandoned ghetto and think no one will notice.

"We breach in five," Petit said over the radio, receiving affirmatives from his men. This three story building with its lights on was one of Bane's places and it was just begging for a raid. Tactically, his SWAT team was placed perfectly. He had snipers on the roofs of the surrounding buildings, aiming at the windows and the front door. Anyone that tried to leave through those ways would be shot. That allowed him to split the bulk of his team for the back and side entrances. They would pincer these guys in and give them one of two choices: surrender, or commit suicide-by-cop.

Every SWAT truck and squad car was hidden from sight from the target building, each vehicle taking refuge from a block away behind other rotting buildings. Sitting on the bench at the opening of the the SWAT truck, Petit made last minute adjustments to his gear, making sure his grenades and smoke bombs were in place, his armor fitting snugly on his body, and his gun locked and loaded.

"Everyone, lock and load!" he shouted in the truck, hearing several other guns clicking as magazines were shoved in and bullet chambers loaded. God, he loved that sound.

Hitting the radio, he gave the order. "All teams are a go. Let's kick some ass."

Without waiting for a response, Petit shoved the door open and leaped out of the truck, his combat boots hitting the pavement. He was on the move in an instant, the rest of his team pouring out of the truck behind him. Without a second thought, the men formed a single-file line behind Petit, following his lead as he reached the sidewalk and kept close to the wall next to him, using its shadow for cover. He only stopped when he reached the corner, peering around it to look at the target.

As expected, there were lights on, random windows lit up. There was no sign of an outside patrol and the snipers hadn't found anyone on the roof. Still, he would make sure before moving out into the open. "Snipers, any boogies?"

There was a brief pause before he got a report back. "_All clear, Alpha. You may approach."_

A smirk appeared on Petit's face. Bane was making this too easy for him.

* * *

The wind pulled and tugged at his cape as Batman watched from his perch. The GCPD were going in hard on one of Bane's outposts. It was where some of his men rested, along with the storage of some supplies.

The pincer maneuver wasn't all that bad of an idea, but the idea of using snipers to cover weak points was problematic. No doubt SWAT would have itchy trigger fingers. That would make things tricky.

He had been keeping tabs on the GCPD ever since Gordon had been stranded on the other side of the river. If Bullock or Montoya were available, he could count on them to keep the hotheads in line. Without a proven leader, that left the more aggressive members to take control. In this case, the hothead was named William Petit. He was highly-decorated and well-respected amongst the precinct. He was the late Brandon's successor.

Glancing to a side, Batman eyed the unconscious sniper next to him. There were two, maybe three more still out there, ones he had removed from action. He had hoped to remove them all before the attack commenced, but now that SWAT was on the move, he was out of time.

The vigilante tilted his head to a side until he felt the vertebrae crack and pop, a wave of relief running down his spine. Batgirl was out and about, most likely after the other snipers, so he could count on her to finish them off. The Network was on other assignments, so it was pretty much him as of now.

"Batgirl, SWAT is making their move," he reported into the comm link. "I'm going in."

Her response was immediately. "_Wait for me. I'm almost down with the snipers."_

"There's no time. Finish them off and we'll regroup inside." Shutting off his comm link before she could argue further, Batman then leaped off the building he stood on, activating the electric current in his gauntlet and grabbing his cape in one fluid motion. He felt his cape stiffen as it went into glider mode, allowing him to sail through the air.

His target was a window, one with the lights on. Surveillance had shown there were two men in there, their activity unknown. With the element of surprise on his side, he'd take them out quickly before reinforcements could arrive upon hearing his entrance.

Angling his body, he eventually aligned himself to head headfirst towards the window, gliding towards it rapidly. The distance closed between him and the glass, the vigilante getting a good view of two mercenaries sitting on separate twin beds. They looked to be talking to each other, their body language relaxed.

At the last moment, he leaned backwards as he swung his legs forward. An instant later, his feet slammed against the glass, causing it to shatter. Releasing his cape, it immediately slackened, allowing him to passed through the broken window without issue. His momentum carried him right into the middle of the room, where he landed right between the two surprised men.

Without hesitating, Batman twisted to his left as he swung a fist, his punch ramming right into the mercenary's face, the force of the blow sending the man further across the bed until the back of his head collided with the wall. His body immediately limp as he slouched against the wall and bed mattress.

That left just one mercenary left. Though his body was leaned away from the man, that didn't stop Batman from attacking. Continuing to pivot on his feet, he spun to face the other man, leaping off of the ground as he did so. Swinging a foot, he landed a kick across the face of the other mercenary, knocking him out as he collapsed onto the bed.

The moment the dark-clad man landed, he jerked his head from side to side, studying the room for any other threats. He quickly observed it was only the two men and their machine guns, which were leaning up against the wall beneath the broken window.

Satisfied there weren't any impending threats he had missed nor unexpected equipment, now he needed to get out of this room before reinforcements showed up. He preferred taking out all of Bane's men so there was no need for SWAT to take action against them. The less casualties, the better.

Time to get to work.

* * *

The last sniper slumped to the roof, Batgirl looking dispassionately down on him. Then her head tilted up to look at Bane's hideout and her eyes were ablazed with rage.

Batman had gone in without her. What was he trying to prove?! Her hands balled into fists and clenched tightly, the leather of her gloves crinkling from the pressure.

He had just returned to Gotham after being beaten into a coma and yet, he was acting as if it had never happened. He hadn't pulled back on his efforts to patrol Gotham, or delegate his tasks to the other vigilantes. No, he was acting as if Gotham lived and died on his very breath. Had he not realized he was still healing?

And here she was, relegated to ensuring none of the Gotham policemen could hurt them with random shots from the outside. That was something he could have done while she went inside first. It made more sense for her to go first, what with her being at full health. He hadn't said anything, but she could read his body language better now and she knew he was still recovering. The way he gingerly sat down and rose out of his seat, the extra carefulness he took while walking, she could see it all.

Like that. Batgirl tilted her head to a side. There was movement to a side of the building. It had been quick and agile, but she had detected it all the same. Focusing her eyes, she studied the building, waiting for the movement to happen again.

_There._ There was something moving up the side of the building, using some sort of grapple line. Considering she hadn't heard the familiar sound of a grapple gun, this person must have used something else to anchor their line. Crouching low to the ground, she watched the figure reached the top of the building, then jog to a roof access. The distance was too wide for her to make out any features aside from them wearing dark-colored clothes, most likely black.

There was someone else getting involved with this police raid. Turning on the device on her gauntlet that caused her cape to become a glider, she then leaped off the roof and grabbed her cape, gliding towards the target building. Whoever that was, she was going to find out who they were and make sure they didn't pose a threat to Batman.

Then she would find that wayward father of hers and give him a piece of her mind.

* * *

The first floor was clear. None of the SWAT teams had radioed coming into contact with bogies. So Petit ordered the advancement to the second floor, where it was also reported no engagement with the enemy.

So now it was onto the third floor.

Climbing up the stairwell, the sound of boots stomping on steps filled the entire shaft. Petit led the charge, storming his way to the third floor landing. Once he reached it, he came to a stop next to the door, his men stopping on the steps as they pressed themselves up against the wall. Petit waited for the sound of stomping feet to stop before he opened the door.

Immediately, the sound of gunfire rang out.

"We've got shots fired," he announced just before he shoved the door completely open, darting into the doorway as he checked a corner. Right behind him, the next man passed through the doorway, checking the other corner.

There was a scream then, followed by a loud bang, and the gunfire stopped. There was an eerie silence that seemed the permeated the area, causing the hairs on the back of Petit's neck to raise.

There was something else here.

"Stay on guard," he ordered in a low tone. "We're not alone."

Edging his way down the hallway in front of him, Petit didn't bother checking the doors that lined the walls. Most were closed shut save for an occasional open one. He only paused long enough to stick his head in the room, check for any bogies, then move on.

Another blast of gunfire sounded off, causing Petit and his men to stop in their tracks. Again, they heard a scream and some sharp sound, which was followed by a crash. That was just up ahead, where the hallway forced a sharp turn to the left. Hefting up his rifle to shoulder height so that he could see down the sights, he once more approached the corner, stopping long enough for the rest of his men to catch up.

Then he darted around the corner and came to a stop. A short distance ahead were a few of Bane's men, all of them lying on the floor, possibly unconscious. Machine guns either laid next to them, or were lying a few feet away.

And standing amongst the men was a dark figure, horns sticking out of his head and some sort of cape hanging from his shoulders. A second later and the figure turned to look towards him, his body twisting around enough that a Bat Symbol was revealed on his chest.

You had to be shitting him. Someone else was running around as that goddamn Batman. Where the hell did these copycats get this idea to dress like a costumed wacko anyways? It was stupid when the first guy did it, it was stupid now. "Freeze!" Petit roared as a couple more of his men rounded the corner and came to stand at the SWAT Commander's side. "Surrender yourself now, or eat lead, dickhead!"

* * *

As the shuriken went flying through the air, it struck the gun of the mercenary, causing it to fly out of the man's hand as he cried out in pain.

Closing the distance between them, Batman swung a fist through the air, slamming it against the side of his foe's head, the force of the blow sending the men flying off the floor, where his head hit the wall. Immediately, his body went limp and he dropped to the floor, landing in a heap.

Looking down at the fallen man, Batman then checked the rest of the hallway, seeing only the unconscious forms of the men he had already taken out. This part of the building was clear, so it was time to move on.

He paused for a moment. The way he was taking out these trained mercenaries, it was as if he were fighting gangsters right from the Mob. In fact, it was as if he were at the top of his game, or close to it. Considering his most recent injury, it was miraculous for him to even being fighting this well. He had expected some sort of drop off, some struggle to take these men down, but now they were being felled by a few blows.

This required further thinking on.

For now, he needed to get back on the move. There were still some of Bane's men left and they needed to be taken out before they caused trouble. Turning around, the vigilante made to make his way down the hallway, instantly stopping.

At the end of the hall, a white-haired man stood, holding a rifle at shoulder-height. "Freeze!" he demanded even as two more men in SWAT armor appeared in his sight, coming stand to the right of the first officer as they leveled their weapons at him. "Surrender yourself now, or eat lead, dickhead!"

Batman raised an eyebrow. This had to be Petit; he recognized him from his surveillance of the remaining GCPD force. It made sense that he would be leading the raid here considering how trigger-happy he was.

Still, he didn't move, merely staring at the SWAT officers, even as another one entered the hallway, unable to take aim due to the first three officers standing in front of him. Undoubtedly there were more just around the corner. "Sir, something's going on with Beta Team," he barely heard as the man spoke to Petit.

"Shut it," Petit barked back before he addressed the Dark Knight. "Put your hands above your head, asshole, or we'll shoot. Trust me on this, I would like nothing better than to put one between your eyes, so just give me a reason."

That was all the confirmation he needed to know just what Petit had planned. He wanted to kill as many people as he could under the guise of protecting the city. This man was a loose cannon with all the ammunition he needed to justify his action. It seemed he was going to have to be dealt with sooner rather than later.

Reaching to his belt, he pulled out a few shuriken, even as Petit yelled, "Last chance to put your hands up!"

In an instant, he threw the shuriken before he shot to his left, passing through an open doorway. He didn't go too far into the room, staying right next to the frame. This was only to avoid any errant gunfire, which he heard a second later.

And then he heard cries of pain. Darting back out into the hallway, he caught sight of the SWAT officers gripping their hands as their guns clattered to the floor. The only one that still held his weapon was the officer in the back, but that was okay. The other three were between him and that officer.

Taking off running, Batman leaped into the air at the last second, extending a foot out, which rammed right into Petit's face, knocking the man off of his feet. Landing back on the floor, Batman turned to face the armed officer and lunged at him, shooting his hands up to grab onto the gun. Pushing it up, he smashed the side of the weapon into the man's face, stunning him. Ripping the gun out of his grasp, Batman inadvertently rammed the butt of the rifle into the back of the head of the SWAT officer next to him, sending the man stumbling forward. Dropping the gun, Batman bent an arm at the elbow before he lunged forward, ramming it into the face of the stunned officer and forcing him to crash up against the wall, his head hitting the sheetrock hard.

As the officer dropped into a heap on the floor, Batman crossed his other hand over his chest before he swung it out, delivering a backhand blow to the nearest SWAT officer. The blow sent the man sailing away, where he crashed into a couple officers that had been watching the fight, unable to fire their weapons due to their comrades being in the line of fire.

Turning his attention to the officer he had hit with the rifle, he lunged towards the man, jumping up into the air as he raised a leg up, bending it at the knee. His knee slammed into the back of the man's neck, knocking him clear off of his feet as he went falling face first to the floor.

That's was a few officers down. It was time to take cover while the police tried to regroup. They would be more cautious now, so hopefully that meant…

As Batman landed back on his feet, he came to a stop. Appearing at the end of the hallway, he saw a figure in black. He wasn't dressed anything like the other SWAT officers, so he couldn't help but give pause to that. In fact, the man had a bow in his hand and he was reaching to a quiver on his back.

It took him a moment before his eyes widened with realization. The black costume, the dark hair, and the use of a bow and arrow—this was Merlyn the Archer, the one Green Arrow had encountered not too long ago. What was he—

With incredible speed, Merlyn had notched his arrow and fired it at the Dark Knight. Jerking to a side, Batman avoided the projectile as it flew right where he had been standing. Turning his head to follow it, he watched as another SWAT officer emerged into the hallway, only for the arrow to strike him right in the shoulder. The man cried out as he dropped to the floor, grabbing at the arrow's shaft.

"Nice reflexes," Merlyn complimented him even as he pulled out another arrow. "Let's see what you can do before I call you the Bat."

He fired the arrow then, which Batman ducked, the arrowhead piercing into the wall above his head. Taking off running, Batman raced towards the archer, pulling out a shuriken, but holding onto it until the last moment. As Merlyn notched another arrow to his bow, the vigilante threw the projectile, watching it whirl through the air towards its target.

Immediately, the black-clad archer jerked to a side, avoiding the shuriken. In the meantime, Batman jumped into the air, leaning backwards as he extended a leg out for a flying kick. Merlyn's eyes widened at the sight of his attack before he jerked to a side, avoiding the kick as Batman sailed right by him. However, the archer still struck at him, quickly un-notching his arrow and swinging it outwards across his body, the arrowhead slicing into the Dark Knight's shoulder.

Batman hissed as he felt the cut, stumbling once his feet landed back on the floor even as he clasped a hand to his cut shoulder. He twisted his body so that his good shoulder bumped into the wall, inadvertently steadying him and allowing him to keep his foe in front of him.

By then, Merlyn had re-notched his arrow. "Waste of time, amigo," he said right before he released the arrow.

Instantly, Batman shot a hand up, just in time to catch the arrow and stopping it less than an inch from his face. He scowled at the tip of the arrow before he directed the look to Merlyn, who's mouth had dropped open at the sight. "Impossible," he gasped.

Jerking his arm to a side, he threw the arrow to the floor, where it clattered. Lunging forward, he reached out with the hand of his injured arm, grabbing onto Merlyn's bow. Using his momentum to his advantage, he forced the bow backwards until it rammed right into the archer's face. Merlyn cried out as he stumbled away, losing his grip on his weapon and leaving it firmly in Batman's.

Moving the bow closer to him, Batman placed the bowstring between two of his triangle blades on his opposite arm. With a jerk of his arm, the triangle blades cut the cord, rendering the bow useless. Tossing it to a side, he returned his attention to his opponent, who had retrieved two arrows from his quiver, holding one in each hand.

"Do you know what you've done?!" he screamed with rage, the beard on his chin shaking. "It's going to take hours to restring that bow, asshole!"

"You'll have plenty of time to do that when you're in prison," Batman returned evenly.

"But not before I slice and dice you into pieces!"

And then the archer lunged at him, slicing at him with one of his arrows. Batman immediately backed yp a step to avoid the swing, only to repeat the same action as Merlyn swung his other arrow. Over and over, the Dark Knight retreated, avoiding the next swing. He was searching for an opening, one that was sure to come as Merlyn's attack pattern was fairly basis. He would slice inward, then do a backswing, followed but another slice with the opposite hand and then a backhand.

_There!_ Avoiding another backswing, Batman then shot forward throwing both of his arms up, one so that he could grabbed the recently-swing arm and hold it away, and the other to block the incoming arm.

He was successful in this as his hand grabbed onto Merlyn's arm while his forearm braced against the other. But then, Merlyn lunged forward, swinging up a leg and rammed his knee into Batman's stomach. Caught off guard, Batman leaned over the knee as he gasped, the air in the lungs being forced out.

Jerking his blocked arm up, Merlyn bent it at the elbow and swung it down, his elbow colliding with the top of the vigilante's head. As stars exploded before his eyes, he missed the archer raising that same arm back up, twirling the arrow in his hand until he reversed his grip on it.

Moving his own arms, Batman pressed them against Merlyn's chest and pushed as hard as he could. The archer stumbled back a couple steps, but he seemed undeterred. "Let's see you dodge this!" he cried out before he threw his raised arrow at him.

Batman instinctively jerked to a side, the arrow flying right where his head had been. Unfortunately, more SWAT officers had appeared around the corner and one had put himself right in the path of the arrow. Before any of them could move, the arrow struck an officer right in the head, his head jerking backwards before he collapsed to the floor.

"Back off, pigs! He's mine!" Merlyn shouted before he reversed his grip on his remaining arrow and threw it. This one hit another officer, this time right in the throat. The man gargled and gasped as his airway was pierced, filling it with blood. His hands grabbed onto the shaft as he vainly tried to pull it out, slowly sinking to his knees.

"Shoot him! Shoot him!" one of the remaining officers shouted as he jerked his gun up. By then, Merlyn had pulled out a couple more arrows from his quiver and was ready to throw them.

In an instant, Batman had a smoke pellet in hand. Raising said hand up, he then threw it at the floor, where a large cloud of smoke exploded in all directions, enveloping him and Merlyn, and hiding them from the cops' view. The black-clad archer yelped in surprise, indicating he hadn't expected the smoke cloud.

It also pinpointed the man's location. Charging forward, Batman went low until his shoulder rammed into Merlyn's abdomen, his arms wrapping around the archer's body. He tackled the man, forcing the two of them into a door, causing it break and shatter upon contact. Pieces of wood flew in all directions as the two of them fell to the floor, Batman landing on Merlyn as the dark-haired man landed on his back.

But then, the Dark Knight felt a knee press against his stomach and he was leveraged right off of Merlyn. Flipping feet over head, Batman found himself hitting the floor on his back as well, but he used his sudden momentum to his advantage as he flung his upper body up and rolled right onto his feet. Spinning around, he was just in time to see Merlyn back on his own feet, lunging at him with an arrow raised by his head.

So focused on the arrow, Batman missed Merlyn drawing his leg back, then swinging it, landing a kick to the side of his knee. His knee jerked inward, a grimace appearing on the vigilante's face as he grunted. Dropping to a knee, he threw an arm up just in time for his forearm to collide with Merlyn's as he drove his raised arrow down for his face.

Instinctively, Batman threw a punch, even as he knew he wasn't in the best position to do so. Merlyn reacted immediately, moving his other arrow-holding hand to intercept. He released his grip on his arrow so that he could catch the vigilante's fist, which pinned the arrow between their respective hands.

"You know, you're no slouch," Merlyn said after a moment. "I wasn't sure before, but I'm starting to think you're the real Bat."

And again, the archer attacked him with his knee, drawing his leg back for a split-second before he launched it forward. The knee landed beneath the dark-clad man's chin, causing his head to snap backwards, throwing his already-precarious balance completely off.

"Said goodnight, Batman!" Merlyn shouted as he raised his arrow up and then jabbed it down to his face.

* * *

The last police officer collapsed to the floor, Batgirl leaping passed them before they landed. She was in a rush and they were in her way and instead of getting out of her way, they decided to try and stop her. For all of their efforts, each one was lying on the floor unconscious.

She was nearing the end of a hallway at this point, one that took a sharp right turn. There was something lying on the floor too, which caused her to slow down. Frowning, she took in the sight of a bow, its drawstring cut. That was a strange thing to be laying in the middle of a hallway.

Turning the corner, she immediately caught sight of a smoke cloud, one that was almost fading away. On the other side of it were one...two...three police officers, their guns raised and ready to fire.

Quickly, Batgirl pulled out her bat-shaped shuriken and sent them flying through the air. They passed right through the thin layer of smoke and collided with the heads of the officers, each one crying out before they dropped to the floor. That would keep them out of her way for the time being.

More importantly, that smoke cloud meant she was closing in on Batman. She didn't see a leftover canister, which would have been what the police would've used. So the cloud was made by a smoke pellet, which is what she and Batman used. He couldn't have gotten to far…

She heard a sound then. Creeping down the hallway, she noticed one of the doors was open. Actually it was broken since the top of the wooden door was the only part attached to the doorframe. The rest was in pieces on the floor, leading into the room.

Peering through the doorway, Batgirl felt herself freeze. Batman was on his knees, head tilted back while a man in black held an arrow high above his head. It was clear what the man was going to do with that arrow.

The young girl's world became a blur. Her vision closed in on the black-clad man to the point she didn't realize she was moving. It wasn't until her hand chopped the dark-haired man's arm at the wrist that she realized she had even moved.

The man cried out as he lost his grip on the arrow, dropping it to the floor. An instant later, Batgirl was driving a palm strike into the side of the man's head, causing it to snap to a side and his body stumbling soon after. Not even waiting for her foe to steady himself, Batgirl launched herself into the air, swinging her leg as she landed a sidekick to the side of the man's head. This sent the attacker flying off of his feet, where he landed hard on the floor.

However, unlike the police officers she had dealt with, this man would not be taken down so easily. Pushing himself up onto his hands and knees, he shook his head before he turned it so he could glare at her. "You picked the wrong day to get on my—"

He wasn't able to finish that sentence as Batgirl darted towards him, swinging another kick, again aiming for his face. Seeing it coming, the arrow man flung himself upward, twisting his body so that he could get his arms in front of him, ready to block. Altering where her kick was swinging, Batgirl leaned backwards so that it curved upward, stilling going for his head. The dark-haired man immediately blocked it, both of his hands grabbing onto either side of her leg. "Nice try, girl, but—"

Undeterred, Batgirl bent her grounded leg and sprung off the floor. Twisting her body as she did so, she swung her free leg through the air, the heel of her boot slamming into the side of the man's head, causing it to jerk to a side. It also had the benefit of him losing his grip on her other leg, freeing it. Batgirl dropped back to the floor, where she landed with her feet beneath her spread out widely, though she had to lean forward while she pressed a hand to the floor so that she could steady herself. Immediately, she closed her legs together, coiling them beneath her.

She could see her foe's punch coming before he even had it drawn back. The moment he had, the man was throwing it right for her face, which she blocked expertly. In a flash, she thrust the palm of her free hand up, ramming it beneath his chin. The force of the blow lifted her opponent off of his knees, sending him flying into the wall behind him. The wall broke apart, leaving a gaping hole in the man's wake as he burst through it.

Marching to the hole, Batgirl peered through it, finding the dark-clad man lying on the floor on his back. One of his hands was by his head, through it was starting to move. She soon saw he was holding an arrow in his hand, one with a strange canister attached to the shaft. "This isn't over, girl," he growled just before a brilliant light erupted from the canister.

Eyes widening, Batgirl jerked to a side of the hole just before a bright flash of light poured through it. She shielded the side of her face with an arm even as she squeezed her eyes shut. She knew that light all too well; it was part of a flashbang grenade, though she heard a distinct lack of a bang. Mentally, she counted to five before she opened her eyes and turned her head towards the hole.

She saw nothing at first, no one rushing through, or an arrow flying by, so she slowly edged herself towards the jagged edge of the hole. Peeking around it, she found her opponent was no longer on the floor, seeming to vanish into thin air. Pulling out a bat-shaped shuriken, she held it by her head as she ventured into the next room, searching for her foe, but only finding an open door creaking as it slowed to a stop.

He escaped. How fortunate for him. Lowering her arm, Batgirl turned around and marched back to the previous room, where she found Batman sitting on the floor, his back up against the wall. Shuriken still in hand, she crossed her arms over her chest as she came to stand in front of him.

"We need to talk," she stated bluntly.


	13. What Comes After

"Thank you for coming," Batman said as he gazed over the table. The Network had been quick to respond to his summons and were all seated around the round table, their eyes on him.

One such set was glowering and it didn't take the World's Greatest Detective to figure out who it was. Batgirl had been glaring at him since his encounter with Merlyn the Archer, reprimanding him for taking on an opponent of such high caliber. It was a talk all too familiar to the Dark Knight and one he did not care to see the reversal of.

Underneath the girl's anger was fear and he was the source of her concern. It wasn't all too unsimilar to how he treated her following her dramatic change in fighting ability. However, her protectiveness was beginning to grate on his nerves. He was not some headstrong teenager that didn't know what he was doing; he wasn't an adrenaline seeker looking for his next fix.

"I've called this meeting to inform you that Bane has brought in assassins to combat Ra's al Ghul," he told the vigilantes, pushing aside his current annoyance. "From what I was able to find out, these are dangerous men, each one fully capable of taking out a small army."

The holographic projector turned out at the center of the table, a light reaching to the ceiling appearing. Several pictures appeared, though four were enlarged. One of them grew bigger than the others, that of a man in black and orange armor. "This is Deathstroke the Terminator, considered to be the top assassin in the world. Highly-skilled, proficient in hand-to-hand combat and weapons. Most of his history is classified under the military, though from what I was able to find out, he volunteered to be a human test subject for a super-soldier serum. Clearly, the experiment was a success."

"Great, another test subject," Black Canary grumbled. "First, Bane, now this guy."

The image of Deathstroke shrank even as one of a helmeted man with guns enlarged. "Deadshot, sniper. I've already seen his handiwork up close and his skills are beyond any normal sniper. He was able to ricochet bullets off of multiple surfaces to hit some of Ra's al Ghul's men, many of whom were taking cover. He is not to be underestimated at all times."

The picture of Merlyn enlarged then as Deadshot's shrank. "Merlyn the Archer; Green Arrow and I have both encountered him thus far. Experienced with long range strikes like Deadshot, but he prefers the bow and arrow."

"And he's damn good with it too," Green Arrow added. "If I had made one wrong step, he would have got me."

"His hand-to-hand skills aren't to be underestimated either," Batman continued. He paused as an image of a man in black and red enlarged, a big red X crossing over the picture. "This was KGBeast, the result of a highly-illegal Soviet training program. He is no longer a threat due to him being killed in action. I only bring him up because he reinforces just how dangerous these men are."

"So we're down to three," Huntress summarized. "What's your plan to take them down?"

"First we need to determine how Bane plans to use these men," the vigilante answered. "While his immediate need is to shore up his forces considering the losses he's taken, that won't always be the case. Each one of these men are motivated by money and if Bane pays them, they'll do whatever he wants."

"So you think they're going to be in town long term," Nightwing said.

Batman nodded. "Which is why none of the Network's younger members will be allowed to patrol by themselves."

"That goes without saying," Black Canary responded, "but it doesn't address our plans to take then down. The sooner they're dealt with, the better."

"We should stay in teams, three or more," Nightwing suggested. "Each one is tasked with taking on one of these assassins."

"If that's the case, I volunteer for Merlyn," Green Arrow volunteered.

Batman shook his head. "That limits our options should we engage. Someone may be better suited to fight Deadshot rather than Deathstroke, but if we form the teams incorrectly, we take away an advantage."

"Which we can learn with someone tailing them," the dark-haired vigilante responded, leaning forward in his seat. "Having multiple eyes on them will give us all sorts of useful information and we can adjust the teams accordingly."

"These are tough guys, though" Huntress pointed out. "I'm pretty sure each one of these guys will realize that we're watching them and they're not going to stand for it."

"Then we use Oracle to watch them," he pressed. "She can get us the intel we need."

"Except their view is limited," Batman countered. "Traffic cams reveal only so much and satellites, while useful for outdoor surveillance, won't be able to tell us what they do indoors. Plus, they have other duties they need to see to."

"Then what else do you have in mind?"

"I don't have any plans as of right now," he admitted. "But once I do, I will—"

The sound of a chair scrapping across the floor filled the room, causing the vigilante to stop. Nightwing was standing up, his chair having been shoved back as he did so, his hands pressed onto the table. "No, that's not how we're going to do things."

"Careful, 'wing," Red Robin murmured lowly.

The older vigilante ignored his younger counterpart. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I've notice something. Ever since Batman came back, our role in this fight has changed." He looked right at the dark-clad man. "You've been taking over the burden of this fight, which has been pushing the rest of us to the side. I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm not going to sit here and allow it to happen again."

Batman raised an eyebrow at that, not that anyone could tell that he did. Seeing as none of the others were challenging him, Nightwing continued, "Not to bring up bad memories, or anything, but you have frequent periods where you just vanish from Gotham. I know you said the first time was because you died, but you've had more since, Bane breaking your back being the latest. Eventually, there's going to come a time where you'll leave and you won't be able to come back. When that time comes, the rest of us can't expect someone to come galloping in on a white horse to save Gotham; it will be on us. We, all of us, need to have greater input, greater roles in this fight, because if we don't, we're going to have another situation like this come up and we won't be able to stop it.

"We can't be reliant on one person to save the day, even if it is Batman. It's time that all of us pull our weight, or get out of the way."

There was a part of Batman that felt that part of this was from a bruised ego. As he understood it, Nightwing had been the de facto leader during his absence, something he found strange. He would have thought Huntress or Black Canary would have taken charge, but instead it was the Batclan leader.

However, he did bring up a good point. There would come a time where he wasn't capable of watching over Gotham. Who would protect it then? The Network, while a good idea, hadn't made the strides one would think. Instead of creating a united front for the vigilantes, they had fallen into it for safety, afraid to venture out from beneath its umbrella.

In this battle with Bane, one single plan wasn't going to cut it. Multiple needed to be active and he already was implementing some. Fixing how the Network operated seemed to be a long-term one that needed repair.

"Alright," he said after awhile, drawing the attention of the room to him. "We need our most capable members tracking the assassins. Green Arrow should be on Merlyn. He's already engaged him and should be able to handle him if things go south."

"Thanks for the vote of confident," the archer replied.

"Katana will be on Deathstroke. Out of all of them, he's the one I'm most concerned about and she's already proven her abilities. If anyone could take a surprise attack from him, it will be her. As for Deadshot," he paused as he looked right at Nightwing, "I'll leave him up to you."

"Wait, why him?" Manhunter piped up. "Why not me, or Huntress, or Canary?"

"As we've already discussed, the younger vigilantes needs to be with someone experienced, which includes all of you," Batman answered her.

"Okay, but what about your little team? Zatanna and Batgirl?"

"We've got another job," Zatanna was quick to respond, which caused the vigilante to give her a sideways look. "You know the saying, don't put all of your eggs in one basket."

"I'm not sure what that has to do with anything," Huntress interjected, giving the magician a strange look. "But I do think we should all be in the know. We should know what the others are doing so we can coordinate better."

"If you must know, we've been keeping an eye on Bane's supplier, the Penguin guy."

"You have?" Nightwing questioned incredulously.

Batman frowned. He hadn't told either Zana or Batgirl to do that. Clearly, the dark-haired woman was trying to throw the other vigilantes off for some reason. He'd play ball for now, but he had the feeling he would be learning just what the two women had in mind.

And he was certain it had something to do with him.

* * *

"What's next? Spears from the Stone Age?! A club? Some animal's bone? What the fuck is happening out there!"

Petit couldn't hold back his anger and he only fed it when he threw the SWAT-issued helmet he had worn that night at the wall, the helmet bouncing off it and flying elsewhere. Wherever it landed, it landed with a clatter and out of sight.

His men, his brothers in blue, they had been taken out with a bunch of arrows. These were people who were highly trained, the best that the GCPD had to offer and somebody with a toy they could get from Academy had picked them off one by one.

Oh wait, and to add insult to injury, somebody dressed as the Batman had to show up and make things more of a mess. He was so tired of these motherfucking vigilantes in his motherfucking city making everything motherfucking worse.

"Bill? Calm down, man," someone spoke, a fellow SWAT member who watched him with concern.

"Calm down?" Petit exclaimed turning on the cop. "I'll fucking calm down when things start making sense around here!"

"This isn't helping any—" the cop tried again.

"Neither are letting those criminals do our goddamn job, Hennelly!" the SWAT commander roared, lifting up a leg and kicking it into a desk. The force he used was enough to move the desk out of alignment, as well as cause its legs to screech against the linoleum floor. "We're the law in this city for Christ's sake!"

Hennelly once again tried to calm his superior down, take a step closer to the raging man. "Take a deep breathe, Bill. You need—"

Petit interrupted the other cop by stomping over and grabbing him by the front of his bulletproof vest, pulling Hennelly closer so that he could snarl in the other man's face. "He was right in front of me. I had him in my sights. All it would take was pulling my finger back half an inch and it would have been over. You hear me? Over! I would have done what everyone, the Commissioner, Cort, and motherfucking Bane couldn't do and take that bastard down once and for all. He was right there!

"And you know what happened? His fucking foot was in my fucking face and the next thing I know, he's gone. Like that!" Petit emphasized with a snap of his fingers. "He will not get away with this, mark my words. He's going down. Him and Bane and anybody else who thinks they can take me. Even that bow and arrow fuck who killed my men, the people I had bled with and suffered with for years. Arkin has a wife and newborn kid and now he's going to be six feet under! And Monroe almost finished paying off his second mortgage! King was about to propose! They're all dead now!"

"Yelling about it isn't going to change that," Hennelly tried once more. "If we're going to fix this, we're not going to do it by trashing the station. Everyone's watching you right now. They do not need to see this."

The officer was referencing to the other officers of the law, be they patrolmen, pencil pushers, and other SWAT members. The various men and women that made up what remained of Gotham's police department kept to the doorways, watching one of their superior officers throw a tantrum.

It was a demoralizing sight to say the least.

Pushing Hennelly away, Petit took a moment to get his anger under control. If he was to be the man who led these people to victory, he couldn't be blinded by rage. Yes, he needed to be calm, controlled, and if he wanted to be angry…

"I don't care what it takes," he said, his voice much calmer than it was before. "We're taking them all down. Even the Batman. Especially the Batman."

"What are you talking about, Bill?" Hennelly asked, his tone cautious.

"I'm saying the next time someone runs into him, or his little boy scout troop, open fire, do not give them a chance to run. Better a body than nothing at all." Though he sounded like he was in control, he was unaware of how his eyes gave away what he was really feeling.

No more being the nice guys; this was war.

"We can't do that—" Hennelly began to say.

"This is war!" Petit interrupted once again, speaking aloud his thoughts. "And in war, there are casualties. That bastard had years to turn himself in. No more. We take him down with everyone else, no pussyfooting about it. Every time we go out there, lethal force is authorized. We're the law here, not them. Not any of them."

Turning on his heel, Petit began to make his way to the locker rooms. He needed to find a quiet place right now to get his head on straight. However, he couldn't help but add one more thing.

"We're taking back Gotham, whatever it takes."

* * *

Restringing a bow took patience and concentration. It was a delicate procedure that was required to make the bow perform at top efficiency. It was up to the user to determine its resistance and how to compensate when using the bow.

As irritated as he was that he had to restring in the first place, Merlyn calmed himself down so that he could do a proper job. Anger led to mistakes, which were ones no one could afford in the field. He was a professional and he would do the job perfectly.

After being dismissed by Bane, Merlyn had set up camp in another room, one that was partially filled with furniture, but mostly covered with crates. Sitting next to a cheap table, his bow maintenance supplies laid out on top of it, the archer went to work removing the broken bowstring.

He heard a pair of footsteps then, though Merlyn ignored them completely. It wasn't until Deadshot grabbed the back of a chair and pulled it out from the table, spinning it around before he sat in it, his legs straddling the chair's back. Resting both of his arms on top, the sniper asked, "So you think that midget was blowing smoke?"

Merlyn looked up from his work, eyeing Deathstroke as the man leaned up against a nearby wall, arms crossed over his chest. No doubt Deadshot was talking about the appearance of the Batman.

"He might be," the dark-haired man grunted as he finished removing part of the broken bowstring, flipping his bow upside down so that he could get at the remaining bit. "I actually ran into someone dressed like him."

"Penguin seemed convinced it's the original," the sniper continued. "Is that who you fought?"

Merlyn shrugged his shoulders. "Possibly. He's the asshole that broke my bowstring, so I'm going after him whether he's the real deal, a fake, or the goddamn Loch Ness Monster. I've got an arrow with his name on it."

"How well did he fight?" Deathstroke inquired.

Merlyn paused, considering the question before he looked to the masked man. Though he had informed Bane of this possible copycat, he had been blown off just like the Penguin runt. The only difference between him and Cobblepot was that he didn't care how Bane treated him so long as he got paid. The moment the money stopped, he was gone and he knew Bane understood this. "I got the upper hand on him at the end, but he did show some moves at the beginning. He actually caught one of my arrows barehanded and I wasn't any further than you and I are."

Deadshot whistled. "And you're the best archer in the business too. This guy has some talent."

"What stopped you from finishing him off though?" Deathstroke questioned, shifting his weight between his legs. "I'm assuming you didn't finish him off."

"That's because a mini-him ambushed me." Merlyn couldn't help but raise a hand up to his jaw and rubbed it, which caused the bow to shift from side to side. "Whoever that was, they hit pretty damn hard. I got punched through a wall by them."

"That's a pretty strong person," Deadshot observed.

"Thing is, if I'm not mistaken, I'm pretty sure it was a woman." Merlyn couldn't help but scowl at that. It was one thing for a man to knock him into next century, but a woman? Save for some very special cases, it was embarrassing to admit that. He'd be the laughing stock of assassins if that ever got out.

Thankfully, neither of his co-workers so much as snorted at him. "I've been hearing for the last few years that the Bat had been running around with a sidekick," Deathstroke said after awhile. "It's been said they were a very competent fighter...and that they were a girl. My guess, it was this girl sidekick that sucker punched you."

"Thanks, that makes me feel so much better," the archer grumbled.

"So what do you think? Are you guys going to go after him?" Deadshot then asked, turning his head between the two assassins. "Bane doesn't seem too worried, but his little pet is foaming at the mouth."

"I've already said what I'll be doing," Merlyn responded, finishing off removing the broken bowstring from his bow. He then grabbed a large coil of wire and began pulling out a large amount, stopping once he deemed he had enough and used a pair of wire clippers to cut it from the coil.

"If this is indeed the Bat, I'm...interested," Deathstroke admitted. "His reputation makes him a target for anyone worth their salt." It didn't need to be said that the Terminator was just that. In fact, Merlyn would say all three of them were. "The honor by itself would be reward enough taking him out."

"And if it's a fake?" Deadshot pressed.

"Then he wasn't worth the effort." Deathstroke shrugged his shoulders. "I don't think anyone would fault us for getting rid of some trash. This is a win-win for any one of us to take him out."

As Merlyn began wrapping one end of his new bowstring to his bow, the dark-haired man pointed out, "Bane won't pay us for the hit, though."

"And that lost my interest," Deadshot replied. "No offense, but if there's no money in it, there's no point in honor. Only way I turned my sights on him is if it is the real deal and I'd need to know that before hand."

There was a moment of silence, though Merlyn assumed that was just Deathstroke considering those words. He was too busy with his bow to really give those words some thought. He had a personal reason for going after this Bat, regardless of whether he was real or not.

"Well then, I suppose we'll just have to test him," the Terminator said after awhile. "If he can't survive, then he wasn't worth the time."

* * *

Determined eyes read off the computer monitor, hands never leaving the keyboard unless it was to use the mouse, and then only briefly. Barbara compiled the information she had on the monitor into a centralized folder, one to be cleaned up later after she was done with her research.

For the time being it was all about getting as much information as she could in the shortest amount of time possible.

That was no joke about not having a lot of time. Any moment, and she would get word on the next operation from the vigilantes in the field. That would take over all her attention next as she strove to make sure they had up-to-date intel and made it all back home in one piece.

What she was doing now was what she did when not in use, trying to track any and all movements from their enemies and their current factions. No, it wasn't any net surfing. She hadn't done that for months because, you know, Bane's conquest of Gotham and all. It was still personal, though, but not because it was frivolous.

It still pissed her off that Batman hadn't taken the Penguin off the streets yet. The little creep that had kidnapped her and tried to use her against her father was still out there, left deliberately by the man that she had hoped would see the wisdom in taking that bastard down hard. Even now, the memories of those pudgy hands getting anywhere near her sent a shiver up what was left of her operational spine, and only empowered her to work harder.

It was needless to say, but she had come to the conclusion that if Batman wasn't going to bring Oswald Cobblepot in, then someone else would have to. So that was what she was doing. All the searches, the hacking, everything she was doing was finding any and all information that she could find on his current whereabouts and the extent of his new enterprise.

Her findings so far only pissed her off more. Cobblepot had been busy since his escape from Blackgate. While Bane destroyed the competition, the little twerp had been scooping up what little was leftover to form a new outfit, one that had kept itself on the down low.

Already, she was finding connections with this new syndicate and some very dangerous folk, the kind involved in some of the more serious organized crime trades, such as arms dealing, the drug trade, and alarmingly enough some legitimate corporations. Based on what she had been able to piece together, the last group had been more recent, growing to prominence in the last couple of weeks.

The Penguin was expanding, that much was certain. Also, from what she had been able to learn from Batman via the Network, Penguin was also in cahoots with Bane and why not? It was reminiscent of the early days when Bane had given the choice to the remaining mobsters and gangsters in the city to join him before he decided to go with a scorched earth approach.

From a business standpoint, it made sense, but it didn't make Barbara any happier to learn about it. If you were going to be doing something illegal nowadays, then Bane had to be somewhere on the take somewhere. There was a level of competence here that she had long forgotten that Cobblepot was capable of.

Grimly, she recalled that if it hadn't been for Batman intervening the first time, his hostage plot with her would have been a huge success for him.

Yes, she was learning a lot about how the Penguin really operated, and it scared her to what lengths this man could go to get what he wanted. With him, if he made a claim, there wasn't usual some truth to it. He wasn't the type to brag about some connection he had unless it was very real.

So why was Batman leaving him out there to do even more damage?

That was a question she found herself having trouble answering. The paralyzed woman was desperate for an answer, to make some sense out of all this, but so far she still couldn't do so.

Since an answer wasn't being told to her, she was seeking her own. However, everything she was finding out was only increasing her frustration. It was clear, the longer Cobblepot was out there, the harder it would be to put him away. Everyday that passed, he only got stronger, more entrenched.

So, if anything was going to be done about it, she needed to find out everything about his underworld connections, what he was moving, what he was smuggling, and who he was talking to.

Suffice to say, she was finding some disturbing revelations. For example, when the hacker was looking through phone records, going over every call that left the Penguin's base of operations in what she now knew to be the Iceberg Lounge, she found at least two calls to the anonymous tip hotline at the GCPD, and coincidentally enough, they occurred at times when soon after there were raids on weapons dumps.

It was too much of a coincidence for her. Why had Penguin ratted out on Bane? If he was working with him, why was that little shit narking on the masked menace from Santa Prisca?

But wait, there was more. She was able to find some traffic cam footage where she found her father heading in the direction of the Lounge a few days after the second raid. What was he doing there? Did he know about Cobblepot? Why hadn't he told her about it?

No, she knew why he wouldn't tell her about that man; her father was always trying to protect her. Most likely, the Commissioner would have waited until after busting Cobblepot before telling her. It's what he did with all his cases anyway.

That still left her frustrated beyond reason at this point. The longer she delved into the rabbit hole that umbrella-themed criminal had dug, the more uncomfortable revelations she kept finding. Barbara had to push past it, though. That man was violent and capable of even more despicable acts that one could barely comprehend.

Damn it, he kidnapped children and held them as hostages! What more was needed?!

Barbara had to stop for a moment. Shaking her head, she took a few deep breaths before focusing on the computer screens. Forget her resentment, it wouldn't help anything. She needed to build the case, make it iron-tight, then get the others ready for the big takedown. And while they did that, she would make sure they remained alive and in one piece.

The association with Bane would be Cobblepot's downfall, she was sure. When that masked bastard was taken down, so would the bird. Making sure he stayed down was where she would come in.

That way, she would never become his victim again.


	14. Glimpse Into The Future

No matter how many times she had been in the Batcave, Zatanna always forgot about the bats. Even now they were huddling up along the ceiling, chipping to one another, nestling in for some shut eye.

It had to take practice to get used to them. Bruce ignored them and his little girl seemed to have done the same. Then again, Cassandra was clearly steamed so even if the bats dropped guano on her, Zatanna doubted she would have cared.

The magician paused at that thought. _Ew…_

Ever since the meeting with the Network, the one where Nightwing had stood up for the other vigilantes, Zatanna had taken Cassandra aside and, more importantly, back to the Batcave. It was something she had been noticing since the two of them and Bruce had returned to Gotham and it needed to be addressed.

Currently, Cassandra was sitting in Bruce's computer chair, her elbow on one of the chair's arms as she used it to prop up her head, her hand on her check. She was slouched in the chair, leaning to one side, her mask off, which revealed her youthful features. Zatanna stood off to a side, eyes watching the girl as she stewed in her thoughts.

Bruce was off doing something else. She knew that because she had told him they needed a girl talk and would be taking up residence in the Cave. She also indicated that it would be in his best interest _not_ to be there. He had taken her words at face value and went off somewhere else.

His very absence only seemed to anger Cassandra more.

"Alright, I've let you pout about this for long enough," Zatanna finally spoke as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Why don't you tell me what's eating at you. It's just the two of us, so feel free to let it all out."

Cassandra glanced towards her out of the corner of her eyes. The chair rotated slightly so that she could look without physically turning. There was a glare in her eyes, a look Zatanna returned with cool indifference.

"Look, I know you have a problem. You've had one since we've returned to Gotham. Now fess up before I lock you in the Cave. I'm pretty sure Bruce won't mind."

This time, the younger girl turned the chair so that she fully faced the dark-haired woman, dropping her hand from her face onto the armrest. "You want to know?" she questioned rhetorically. "Alright, I'll tell you. Ever since we came back, Batman keeps putting himself into danger. It's as if he's seeking it."

Zatanna raised an eyebrow. "So? That's the business you're both in. There's going to be danger whether you want there to be or not."

"I know that," Cassandra shot back peevishly. "What I mean is that he's taking unnecessary risks. When we were taking out Penguin's men at the docks, he didn't wait for us like he said he would. He took those men on by himself. Then, when we were fighting the police last night, he goes into the building without waiting for me. By the time I found him, he was about to be killed! And it didn't have to be that way!"

Ah, so that's what this was about. Apparently Cassandra hadn't learned about Bruce's recklessness, or never paid it any mind until now.

"He's always been like that, though," she replied simply. "As long as I've known him to be wearing that mask, he's always done reckless things. Leaping from tall buildings with only a grapple for safety; ramming the back of his Batmobile into an oncoming truck; refusing help at any and all opportunities." She then muttered to himself, "Knocking out people he cares about."

"What was that?" the girl asked, frowning.

"Nothing. The point is that Bruce, your dad, does this kind of stuff all of the time. I'm kinda surprised you're just now noticing."

"That's because I didn't know any better in the beginning," she admitted. "But I do now. All the other times he's done this, I tried to understand, but all those other times he…"

Zatanna frowned. "He what?"

A sad look appeared on the dark-haired girl's face. "He wasn't hurt like he had been. It's a miracle that he's even standing after what Bane did to him. And yet, he's not acting any different. He's not being mindful of his back. One wrong move and he could be overcome with pain."

Zatanna nodded her understanding. She knew the girl's fears all too well. Hell, she had seen her father figure crippled, which could not have been easy. Their time together following her arrival in Chicago had only reinforced that idea.

"I just don't understand," Cassandra was saying, which pulled Zatanna out of her thoughts. "Why does he seem to look at all of his choices and choose the riskiest one? Why won't he take care of himself?"

"That's a question all of us have asked at one point or another," the dark-haired woman said as she stepped towards the girl, resting a hand on her shoulder. "Believe, me, I've been right where you're at now. I can't tell you how many times I wanted to pull my hair out of my head over that man."

Cassandra looked up to her. "How did you deal with it?"

Zatanna tilted her head up as she went into thought. Then she blew air out of her mouth, which caused some of her hair to fly up before slowly falling back down. "A lot of arguing, a lot of confronting, and verbally putting my foot up his ass."

"And that worked?"

"Nope, not at all."

Cassandra looked away from her despondently. Then her face twisted with anger as she jerked her hand up, making a fist with it. She then slammed it down on the keyboard, causing a hole bunch of keys to light up. "That pig-headed…idiot!"

"Preaching to the choir there, sister."

On the computer screen, something was going on, a whole bunch of windows popping up and vanishing just as suddenly as they appeared. Obviously the computer was trying to make sense of whatever random command Cassandra had inadvertently put in. Zatanna paid it very little mind.

The girl looked up to her, a helpless look on her face. "What am I supposed to do? I have to make sure he's safe. I have to since he won't."

Zatanna couldn't help but sigh at that. That was an impossible question with an undesirable answer. "Unless you're willing to attach yourself to his hip 24/7, you won't stand a chance at doing that. Even then, he'd still find a way to give you the slip and you'll be back where you started."

As distasteful as it was to say that, she could tell it was just as unpleasant hearing if Cassandra's face was anything to go by. However, before she could respond, something happened.

Namely, a drawer popped out of the computer stand. Both women looked to it, finding the drawer to be a very long, very thin one. It was perhaps an inch thick, if that. Filling up the draw was cushioning and at its center was a flash drive.

_Huh…_

There was a frown on Cassandra's face as she turned the chair to face it, leaning forward in her seat and plucking the flash drive from its bedding. "What is this?" she asked out loud.

"Looks like one of Bruce's flash drives," Zatanna said, eying the metallic surface. It gleamed in the Batcave's lighting, odd embellishments attached to it. That was quite a flashy design for a guy that preferred function over style.

"But why is it here? He keeps all his other ones with the rest of our equipment." Her eyes hardened as she studied the device. "And this looks nothing like his other flash drives."

The girl had a point. This flash drive had a metallic appearance. Dare she say it was space-age, or even futuristic-looking. All the other drives Bruce kept were ones that could be bought at a retail store, though knowing him he had them custom made, not to mention bought in bulk.

"Maybe it's important?" Zatanna couldn't help but think about the girl's words. It was strange for Bruce to single out one flash drive out of the many he had. The only time he did that was when there was something significant to him that he wanted to hold onto. It's why the painting of his parents was the only picture in his study.

"There's one way to know for sure," she then prompted, which earned her a look from Cassandra. Realizing what she was getting at, the girl then turned the chair to face the computer and plugged the flash drive into a USB port.

Looking up to the computer, Zatanna noticed the randomly flashing windows had stopped, a small one in the bottom left corner remaining with the words SECURED DRAWER OPEN in it. _Secured? _she couldn't help but repeat in her mind.

It took several moments, but soon a much bigger window appeared on the screen. It was some sort of video, one that appeared to be of the Batcave...yet, not. Zatanna recognized the Cave in the background, but there was something different about it.

She never figured it out as her eyes suddenly focused on a person in the video. It was of a woman with straight, black hair wearing black and red body armor. A red Bat Symbol was on her chest—

_Hold on, red?!_

Who the hell was this? Why were they wearing a Batsuit? Zatanna hadn't ever seen that look before and was unaware of anyone that wore it. However, the woman did look familiar. In fact, if she wasn't mistaken…

"That looks like me," Cassandra said softly.

Indeed it did. If Zatanna wasn't mistaken, that was Cassandra, only older. And why were there those weird dots on her forehead?

Suddenly, the video started playing. "_Nightwing was one of the first to find that out. Helena and the rest of Birds went shortly after,"_ the woman said, followed by a sigh. "_That's when Zatanna led a revolt. She had obtained some amulet from_—"

Whoa, whoa! Revolt? Her?! Since when?! Zatanna immediately hit a key that paused the video. This caused Cassandra to tear her eyes away from the screen to look up at her.

"What the hell is this?" she exclaimed. "Me leading a revolt? On who? When? What is going on here?"

It took her a moment before she looked down to Cassandra, who was still looking up at her. "None of this is making sense," she continued, though found whatever rant she wanted to go on was pretty much over.

"What do we do?" the girl asked.

Zatanna stared down at her before she looked back up at the screen. "The only way to find out what this is, what is going on, and why Bruce was hiding it is to watch it from the beginning." Hitting the rewind button, she watched as the video began going in reverse, speeding up the longer she held it.

_Alright, Bruce,_ she thought, _what else have you been hiding?"_

* * *

A skilled hunter was always patient. One needed to be when tracking difficult prey.

Ra's was a very patient man. He had centuries to acquire such a mindset, unlike the younger generation of today. Instant gratification was fleeting at best.

As of now, his patience was paying off. It wasn't all that long ago that he had received word that his men had finally found where Bane was hiding. His masked foe had done well to hide from him, vanishing from sight. He had played his hand well.

Unfortunately for Bane, he was going up against men that specialized in surveillance. His assassins could ferret out any and all shreds of information and that was just what they had done. Ra's did not care the means in which they went about it as long as what they found out was factual.

Bane was hiding out on a ship at the docks, one that Ra's had come to found out had been docked there for quite some time. The log books at the docks made no mention to this ship's presence, but that was due to tampering. All mentions of the ship had been deleted from the computerized record log, so when doing a count of all shipping vessels were done, an additional one was discovered.

It was a novice mistake really, one unbefitting the masked man. It was an oversight, or a foolish choice to eliminate the records. Perhaps if it was the local law enforcement doing a search, it would prove useful, but for someone of Ra's intelligence, it was a giveaway.

Surveillance had been done then, and much like Ra's suspected, Bane's presence was discovered. No doubt this was one of the ways Bane had brought supplies and men to Gotham, if not the very ship to ferry him. Considering the attrition the man had faced, it was telling that he would retreat to his own ship.

And Ra's would make certain it would be his final stop.

"Ubu, send everyone to Gotham Harbor," Ra's ordered, his manservant immediately straightening his posture. "We have Bane's location and I want it to be the last one he ever sees."

"Your will be done, Master," Ubu replied.

Yes, his will be done.

* * *

There was a cool breeze in the air that was quite refreshing. It disguised the awful things that were going on within the city, lulling one into complacency.

Huntress stood atop a building, using it as a perch to monitor the streets below. Though, if she were honest, her mind was far from actually patrolling effectively.

The last Network meeting had ended abruptly. It all stemmed from Nightwing's accusation that Batman was taking over the group and the rest of them were allowing it. At first, Huntress didn't care; saving the city was what was the most important thing after all. However, now that she had some time to reflect on what was being said, she found herself agreeing more and more with what Nightwing had said.

Everything seemed to be on a constant cycle. Batman would protect the city, leave, the city would go to shit, and he would come back to put everything back into place. Wash, rinse, repeat. It was hard to ignore now that it was out in the open.

Huntress took in a deep breath. Had she been younger and inexperienced, she would have been right behind Nightwing, arguing for more say. Perhaps it was an age thing where she found herself not caring how the shots were called as long as they were the right ones and they worked. Batman had the best record on that, especially considering the Network's efforts without him. Things seemed to work better with him around than they did without him.

But this cycle was getting old. It had to stop, needed to stop.

The sound of crunching gravel reached her ears, alerting her to someone approaching her. The purple-clad vigilante turned her head to a side and saw Black Canary walking towards her. "Quiet night, isn't it," the blonde woman greeted her.

"Not for long," she grunted back. Things never did stay quiet in this town. "What brings you here?"

"The same thing that's been running through everyone's mind since the meeting." Canary came to a stop next to her comrade. "Do you think Nightwing's right? That we're getting pushed aside?"

"He made a lot of good points," Huntress admitted. "Hell, maybe he is right. But we can't deny either that things have been working better with Batman here. It's like there's a catch-22 in all of this."

Both women fell silent for a few moments. "There's a part of me that wants to dispute what Nightwing said," Canary said then. "I mean, who cares how Gotham is saved so long as it is. But I can also see what he means, what with Batman's frequent disappearances and the city going to hell without him. It's getting frustrating, like he's the only one that can adequately protect this city."

"It seems like we're both thinking the same thing." Huntress looked to the blonde vigilante. "How do we change it though? I mean, if this is as big of a problem as it's being made, then it's up to every one of us to change it. But again, how do we do that?"

And that was the question, the heart of the matter to be frank. It was clear that they weren't in the same league as Batman, not with the way he magically returned and suddenly the Network began having more success. He had changed all of their tactics, encouraging smaller, specialized groups whereas they had all stayed in one large group for safety. He ensured they were properly supplied whereas before they relied on what was available. He chose the right course of action without having to learn it the hard way.

Perhaps...perhaps it was Batman that was suited to handle a crisis like they had been in and they weren't. Being on her own hadn't produced any results pre-Network, and then joining the group had brought minimal returns.

"I can't really think of anything other than self-improvement," the dark-haired woman spoke then. "It's like _we_ have to get better and reach _his_ level. Just imagine if we had the same ideas that he's having. Would we be standing here with everything still going on?"

"I'll be the first to admit that I didn't demonstrate the proper leadership that I should have," Black Canary added. "Maybe things would be different if you or I headed the Network instead of deferring to Nightwing. It's obvious he was used to leading more inexperienced vigilantes than the rest of us." She paused. "Christ, did we screw this whole thing up?"

"Did we do anything that we would have done differently had either one of us took the reins?" Huntress replied. "I'd like to think no. I do think we would have made things more democratic and allowed all the voices that we did. Maybe nothing really changes then."

There were just too many what ifs. Huntress didn't deal with those and second guessing wouldn't fix anything now.

"For now, we need to get through this mess with Bane and the Demon's Fang and anyone else that wants to take over this dump. Later we can figure out how to improve ourselves and the Network so that there's a long-term plan for the future."

"I guess that's what we'll have to do," Black Canary agreed.

Again, they fell into silence, though that was mostly because neither one of them had anything else to say. So they stared out into the city, gazing upon it in all of its gloom.

Perhaps that was why they saw all the movement.

At first Huntress thought she was just looking at moving shadows, but slowly she came to realize she saw a bunch of people on the move. In fact, a couple of the people were on the building across the street, running across the rooftop at full speed.

It wasn't just those two, however. Across multiple buildings, there were people running at full speed, a veritable army of them. If Huntress wasn't mistaken, they were all going in the same direction.

"H, tell me you're seeing this," Black Canary said.

"You too, huh?" she responded, squinting her eyes in the attempt to see them better, however it was that worked. "Is it just me, or do those guys look like Demon's Fang ninjas?"

"I think that's who they are too." A pause. "We should call this in."

"You do that, BC. I'm going to follow them and see where they're going." With that, Huntress took off running, fishing out her grapple gun so that she could have it ready. She fired it at a much taller building, one that started another block of buildings across a street.

Something was going down, she could feel it in her gut. If it were just a handful of those assassins, she would've suspected some sort of patrol on their part, but with the number she and Black Canary saw, it was more than that. Those assassins were closing in like a hunter after prey. Considering who they were going after and she had the feeling another large fight was about to break out.

And as she reached the top of the building, she noted a second grapple claw close to hers. No doubt Black Canary was following her. So much for being pushed aside, right?

* * *

Hours had gone by. Zatanna wasn't sure how many, but it must have been a lot.

She felt numb, sick, and horrified. Shattered was a pretty good word for it too. She had heard that Bruce had gone missing for a month, something that was played off as an undercover sting by the Justice League, or so the story went. The dark-haired woman had her own problems at the time and hadn't known of his disappearance until after the fact.

According to this flash drive, that was all a lie. Zatanna knew the video she and Cassandra had watched was footage recorded by the recording device in Bruce's lens. Somehow, someway, he had traveled to the future where the Justice League had gone bad and taken over everything. To find out she had died as part of the resistance was shocking.

And then came all the twists and turns. That Ra's al Ghul had arranged for Bruce to travel through time; that Dr. Fate—_the Dr. Fate_—had intervened; all the death and wanton killings the League had committed and then defended; all of it was mind-numbing.

Of course, all of that wasn't enough by itself. With Bruce involved, it was never just that simple. The cherry on top of this unknown story was Wonder Woman snapping the neck of Future Cassandra right in front of him. The scream Bruce had made was deafening, bone-chillingly distraught. She had heard that scream before and it had sent the same chills down her spine now as it did then. He had made that scream when Alfred had been killed.

And yet, that wasn't the most troubling thing. No, what caused Zatanna's heart to drop and her stomach to twist into knots was what Bruce said to Wonder Woman right after.

"_Diana, I'm gonna kill you."_

If there was one thing that should never have passed through Bruce's lips, it was those words. He abhorred killing. It physically made him sick. But there he was, doing everything he could to kill the Amazon princess. The entire time, Zatanna had prayed and begged that he didn't follow through, even as he brutally destroyed Diana, both physically and emotionally.

The relief she had felt when he restrained himself threatened to cause her legs to give out. The rest of the video was a blur to her and she really didn't pay it any mind.

It had been some time since the video had ended. There was no telling how long it had been since the feed stopped. It could have been hours, it could have been minutes. Regardless, Zatanna stood there next to the computer chair, numb and confused.

It wasn't until she detected movement in the chair that she snapped out of her funk. Quickly, the magician looked down to see Cassandra slumped in her seat, a devastated expression on her face. As if she couldn't feel any worse, Zatanna realized the young girl had just watched herself be killed, seeing what her future would end up.

_Jesus Christ…_

Quickly, Zatanna placed a hand on the girl's shoulder, trying to get her attention. "Cassandra," she said softly.

The young girl didn't so much as twitch. "Cassandra," she repeated with more strength in her voice. Again, no reaction.

No, wait, there it was. She could feel Cassandra's shoulder trembling beneath her hand. Steeling her resolve, Zatanna turned the chair to face her, even as she knelt down in front of it, putting herself right in front of her charge's line of sight. "Talk to me," she ordered.

Cassandra didn't immediately open up. Her trembling became more visible though. Then, "What is going on?" she asked softly, shaken. She looked so lost and vulnerable, it caused Zatanna's heart to ache for her.

And then she exploded. "What am I to him? Her? That...woman in the future? Is that how he sees me? Is everything he's done for me for her? To protect her? Make me into her?" She was on a roll and it looked as if she wasn't going to be stopping any time soon.

Zatanna stood up only so that she could lean forward and hug the girl, who immediately latched onto her, burying her face into the dark-haired woman's shoulder. She could feel Cassandra's fingers digging into her back, but she ignored it. The girl needed someone for her and damn it, she was going to be that someone.

And then Cassandra abruptly pulled away. "I need to know. I need him to tell me why," she said, this time her tone being filled with resolve, if not desperation. "No wonder he had the Martian man mess with my head. He wanted me to talk just like her and he wanted it as fast as he could get it. And then he locked me inside this house so I wouldn't get hurt!"

She was hurting, that much Zatanna could see. If she was honest with herself, she could see where the girl was coming from. Bruce had never been one to take the easy road—and boy did she know that. Suddenly changing tactics after coming back from the future explained it.

But again, this was Bruce. She had the feeling things weren't as dry cut as Cassandra was believing them to be. Sure, the future was influencing him, but there was something else, she could feel it.

That could be looked into later. For now she needed to calm down a teenager who just had her world rocked to the core.

Pressing a hand to the girl's cheek, Zatanna made a soothing sound, shushing the teen. "Listen now. There are a lot of unknowns here. I know what we just saw is pretty damn earth-shattering, but Bruce isn't shallow enough to try and mold you into another person. We both know this."

Cassandra's eyes flashed. "Oh really? Then what about all his words on no killing? He enforces that all of the time!"

"And for good reason." Zatanna's tone hardened. "You did see what happened to that...Batwoman in the video, right? When she killed Superman? Did you see how destroyed she was afterwards? That's the reason why he insists on that. He's always insisted on that long before this little trip of his."

"Then what about the talking? And the writing? And the reading? What about those?"

That one Zatanna wasn't sure about. But she did know one thing: "If Bruce wanted you to be the woman you become in the video, then he wouldn't have come back. Think about it, none of what happened to cause that future exists any more. He's in the present versus being dead. The Justice League hasn't declared war on crime worldwide. And you aren't crashing with the Birds. That has to mean something."

"But—"

"No buts. Look, the only way either one of us is going to get to bottom of this is when we ask Bruce, your father, for answers. He's going to hedge, he's going to stonewall, but he can't hide the fact that we found that little flash drive of his. He's going to answers us one way or another."

Cassandra gave her a questioning look. "Give us answers?"

Zatanna returned the look with one that said, "Really?" "If you think I don't want to know what the hell is going on with that man, then you're sorely mistaken. Aside from the Lasso of Truth, I'm about the only person in the world that knows how to get answers out of him. It might take a half-dozen spells to do it, but he _will_ talk."

The girl considered those words for a few moments before she nodded her acceptance. "Okay. Together."

Zatanna smiled at her as she stood up to her full height. "Now then, we'll just need to lure him here so—"

Suddenly, intense pain exploded in the back of her neck. Zatanna felt her legs give out as she dropped to the floor. The last thing she saw was Cassandra's face, eyes wide and mouth hanging open.

And then she only known unconsciousness.

* * *

Zatanna collapsed to the floor, ending up at Cassandra's feet. The young girl's eyes were wide as she stared as the women fell, only to have her attention drawn right to a young looking boy standing on the other side of the dark-haired woman's body.

He had his arm raised as if he had delivered a chop-like blow, one Cassandra realized he had used to knock Zatanna out. His white and blue bodysuit stood out in the cave. However, his face and hair were oddly familiar.

"I've finally found you," the boy sneered at her. "Usurper."


	15. Battle At The Docks

Cassandra reacted on instinct. She forced herself out of the chair, bending her legs at the knee. Then she sprung up into the air, going into a backflip as she swung her legs upwards. This kept the invader from lunging at her as he jerked back instinctively to avoid the kick.

Shooting her arms over her head, her hands grabbed onto the top of the computer chair, allowing her to spring off of it and higher into the air. Because of the chair's wheels, this action sent the chair rolling haphazardly at the boy, who shot his hands in front of him and stopped the chair from running him over.

Cassandra completed her flip a moment later as she landed crouched on the floor at the end of the computer station. As it so happened, her mask was at the end as well, which she snatched up and shoved over her head.

By then, the boy had shoved the chair away and was storming towards her. "You won't get away from me," he declared.

She saw his punch coming the moment he drew his fist back. Staying crouched, she merely raised an arm up and blocked the punch that was coming for her head. Immediately, her attacker drew his other fist back and threw it, again aiming for her head. With her other arm, she blocked that blow as well.

And then he leaned to one side as he swung a leg up, swinging a high sidekick. Immediately, Batgirl leaped backwards, avoiding the attack, then used that moment to stand at her full height.

As far as she could tell, the boy had some training. Considering his height and youthfulness, he could not have been any older than seven, or eight. However, Batgirl remembered what she was doing at that age and she had to say she was a more competent fighter then than the boy was now.

He would not be much of a problem.

"You can fight—good," the boy said as he took up a fighting pose, his fists held out in front of him much like a boxer. "I would be disappointed if you were not."

"Who are you?" Batgirl demanded as she merely held her hands by her sides, allowing her cape to hide her body from sight. It was similar to how Batman used his cape when hiding himself from his opponent. "How did you get in here without triggering an alarm?"

The boy snorted. "You call those alarms? They did not even alert you if they did anything. I recommend using something other than bats."

The alarms went off? Then why hadn't they gone off? Yes, she and Zatanna had been distracted by the...video...they had been watching, but that wouldn't have stopped the computer from detecting an alarm going off. Had her hitting the keyboard turned them off, or disguised one of the alarms being tripped? It was possible…

"You did not answer me," she stated. "Who are you?"

The child got a haughty look on his face. "I am the heir to this place, which you have taken from me. Now I'll be taking it back."

That made little sense to her, but then she didn't have any time to ponder it further. The boy was charging at her again, once more attempting to punch her. At least that was his plan; Batgirl could see the punch coming a mile away.

So she countered him even as he drew his fist back. Pivoting one of her feet, she raised a leg up and kicked her foot towards his face. Her foot slammed into his face, causing his head to stop in place even as the rest of his body kept moving. This resulted in him going into an out of control flip, flying right by her before he landed roughly on the cave floor.

There, that should have taken care of him.

The boy groaned then and slowly pushed himself off the floor. He scowled at her as he did so, getting back to his feet. "You're going to pay for that."

He was trying to be tough, though the foot-sized redness on his face didn't help that image. It was more funny than intimidating. Jerking his hands down, he shoved them into a pouch at his waist and pulled out several throwing stars. In a flash, he threw them, sending a barrage of the metal projectiles.

Batgirl had her grapple in hand and fired it up to the ceiling. She was soaring up into the air a moment later, avoiding the throwing stars. Once she was safely out of harm's way, she disengaged the grapple claw, then dropped back to the floor, landing far from the spot she had originally grappled from.

By then, the child had charged at her again, jumping up into the air as he performed a flying kick. Jerking to a side, she avoided the kick, the boy flying right by her. He landed on the floor and instantly spun around to face her again.

There was a flash of light glancing off the side of a metal throwing star, the only warning she got right before the boy threw it at her face. Leaning back as far as she could, she dodged the throwing star, watching it sail over her face before she leaned back up.

She saw the fist coming. Tactically it wasn't a bad idea. With her attention on the throwing star, she never saw the boy close the distance between them and throw a punch right where her face would be. The only thing he hadn't counted on was her reaction speed.

Before his fist met her face, Batgirl already had an arm up, batting aside the punch. Jumping backwards so that the boy's forward momentum didn't run into her, the young vigilante found her feet landing on something bumpy and uneven, which threw off her balance. Looking down, she found she had landed right on the tail of the giant dinosaur.

"Get back here!" the boy cried out as he half-stumbled, half-ran at her. Moving up the tail, Batgirl walked backwards as she began to climb it, her opponent climbing onto the tail and following her. Though she had the high ground—so to speak—and a greater height, that didn't deter the boy from attacking the moment he was within his striking distance.

Because of the unsteady footing she had, Batgirl went on the defensive, allowing the boy to attack her as he wished, which he most certainly did. He threw a punch, aiming it upward for her chest, one she suspected would've been her head since he seemed so intent on attacking this entire fight. Due to their new height differential, he could only go as high as her chest.

Backing up a step, she blocked the blow and pushed it aside, taking other step back as another punch came flying at her. Taking a hard step forward, the boy nearly stomped on her foot, though she was quick to scuttle back to avoid that trick. However, he then leaned backwards so that he could perform a side kick, one that flew right in front of her, Batgirl hopping backwards as she sucked her stomach in to avoid.

Bringing his foot down, he lunged at her again, a flurry of flying fists coming at her. Weaving her arms in front of her, she blocked punch after punch. With each block and parry she performed, she took yet another step back, the boy always pressing forward so that he could keep attacking. Glancing back once, she was surprised to see they were nearing the head of the dinosaur.

That look nearly costed her a hit. The moment she looked back, she saw another fist, one she jerked out of the way. Her feet slipped against the fake scales of the dinosaur, enough so that she was thrown backwards. Reaching a hand out, she caught herself against the large model's neck and scrambled further upward to get her legs back under her.

That's when the boy tried to kick her again. He had planted his foot right where she had slipped, a spot that had a surprising unevenness to it as she had found out. While he had kicked at her earlier, it was foolish to do so at the sharper incline they were at, not to mention the greater possibility of a long fall to the ground. In spite of this logic, he went for the kick. As his kicking foot flew towards her, his grounded foot slipped against the dinosaur, much like hers had. His eyes widening, he aborted the kick and dropped down, his hands and knees pressing down on the dino.

"You should stop," she warned him as she got her footing back, quickly reaching the head of the dinosaur to ensure she wouldn't lose her balance again. "This is unsafe."

"Never!" he growled before he scrambled up to reach the head as well. Batgirl edged back, ready for his next attack. He began firing off punch after punch, each fist the dark-clad girl blocked, inching back further across the head with each blow.

And then suddenly she stepped into open air. Eyes widening as her balance was thrown off, Batgirl jerked her head around to see she had reached the dinosaur's nose and stepped right off of it. This movement, however, prevented her from jerking her foot back to the head and she began falling.

Quickly, she shot her hands out to grab onto the dinosaur's head, her hands ending up grabbing onto the lower lip of the dinosaur's gaping mouth. Instinctively she swung her legs forward, keeping them pressed together as she did so. Her momentum allowed her to swing towards the towering statue's body, the girl landing on the small arm right at the crook of the elbow. The arm shook from her weight landing on it and she immediately sprung off of it before it snapped off. Pressing a hand against the side of the dinosaur, she used to boost her up into the air until she landed back on the dinosaur's back.

Looking up, she saw the boy standing close to the nose, looking over it, no doubt searching for where she went. Silently, she approached him. This little fight of theirs hadn't been the most exhausting of fights, but she had lost any amusement long ago. It was time to put this child down.

He didn't even sense her approach either, not until she was right behind him. With a quick kick, she knocked out one of his knees, causing the leg to buckle as he instinctively leaned backwards. Her hands grabbed onto his shoulders and she shoved him down, forcing him to land hard on his back on the dinosaur's head. He cried out from her rough treatment of him, but his eyes immediately flared with anger at the sight of her.

Drawing a fist back, she then said coldly, "Down," and swung it down, slamming it into the boy's face and knocking him out cold.

* * *

The mercenary was staring out from the roof, watching carefully for activity throughout the docks.

He was unsuspecting. Had he been more mindful of his surroundings, he would have been making sure no one was sneaking up on him. The assassin silently gliding towards the man, his sword drawn and held at his right hip, both hands on the hilt. The tip was pointed to its target, a slight gleam of light glancing off of its sharp edge.

The moment he was within striking distance, the assassin lunged forward, sliding the sword through the mercenary's body. The man gasped as the sword pierced right through him, the tip emerging out through his chest. Quickly, the assassin clasped his hand onto the mercenary's mouth, muffling any more sounds he could make. He then slowly lowered him to the roof, limiting whatever noise his limp body could have made had it simply collapsed.

Pulling his sword out, blood dripping from the full length of the blade, the assassin moved on, dropping from the roof and landing quietly on the ground below. There was a hint of a shadow as it changed the shape of the building's own shadow. Another assassin was passing by the corpse, moving to find another target.

And so would he. Entering a maze of shipping contains, many of which were stacked three to four levels high, the man kept to one side of the artificial path.

Suddenly, a mercenary appeared as the path made a sharp right turn, the man appearing around the corner. Immediately, the mercenary caught sight of the assassin. "Dios mio!" he swore before he jerked his gun up and fired. A bullet hit the assassin in the forehead, his head jerking back as blood exploded out the back of his skull.

"I got you, you bastardo!" the mercenary exclaimed, watching the dead assassin drop into a heap on the ground. Grabbing for his walkie-talkie, he then hit the transmission button and said, "Muchachos! We've got company! The—"

Suddenly, an assassin landed right in front of the mercenary, a sword in hand. Without hesitation, the assassin ran the sword into the mercenary's stomach, cutting him off as he gasped. His hand squeezed tightly to the walkie-talkie, keeping the channel open.

Then the assassin spun to a side, pulling his sword out from the man's gut. Spinning in a circle, the assassin lashed out with his sword, slicing the mercenary's head cleanly from his shoulders. The headless body collapsed to the ground as the head went rolling across the cement, coming to a stop several feet away.

However, the transmission had gotten to the mercenary's comrades. Outside of the maze, next to Bane's ship, a group of mercenaries were taking the safeties off their weapons. "Puta de madre," one of them swore before he addressing his compatriots. "The enemy is here. I want three men covering our six, the rest eyes up front. We're going to find these fucking ninjas and kill them all."

No sooner had he said that, that one of his friends shouted. "I see one!" This was quickly followed by a burst of machine gun fire. Jerking their heads around, they saw several bullets pelting one of the top level shipping containers, though no ninja was visible.

"Damn, he got away," the same man growled. An instant later, his head jerked back as a ninja star collided with his face, one of its points sinking into his eye. "Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!" he screamed.

And then several ninjas came falling from the sky, landing all around the mercenaries. "Kill 'em!" one of the mercenaries screamed before opening fire.

Several more blasts of machine gun fire rang out, a few of the assassins' bodies jerking around as they were riddled with bullets. However, a couple avoided the initial wave and swung their swords. Blood exploded in all directions as one mercenary had his arms sliced off mid-forearm. Another was chopped down at the knees, the mercenary screaming as he fell to the ground, his bloody stumps squirting blood out.

"Protect the ship!" one of the mercenaries cried out. "Do not let anyone reach it!"

And in spite of his words, several ninjas were scaling the side of the _Espina de Rosa_, grapples lines hanging off the deck as the assassins worked their way up.

The battle had begun.

* * *

The sounds of gunshots could be heard blocks away. That was not a good sign to Huntress. That sound meant bad guys were fighting bad guys. While it was going down at the docks, a place removed from the residential districts of Gotham so civilian casualties would be minimal, that was the only good part about it.

"Oracle, I need every available Network body we can get to the Gotham Docks," Black Canary demanded over the comm link. "The Demon's Fang is attacking Bane's men there. We can hear the gunfire already."

"_On it,"_ was Oracle's brief response.

In the meantime, the two of them were going to have to do something about the fighting. Reaching the outer perimeter of the docks, Huntress said, "We take down anyone and everyone we find—no exceptions."

Canary sharply nodded. "Got it."

Landing on the top of the fense, the two women scanned their immediate vicinity, finding no threats. Venturing inward, they quickly came up to a maze of shipping containers, the vigilantes silently agreeing to take the high road and climbed to the top level. Hurrying along the containers, they kept glancing down to the ground, finding bodies of mercenaries and assassins alike. It looked like both sides were taking hits as much as they were giving them.

Further into the maze though, they finally found someone, an assassin looking down into the labyrinth from atop the shipping containers. Canary pulled ahead of Huntress, rushing as fast as she could to close the distance between them. Hearing the pounding of boots on top of metal, the assassin whipped his head around and spotted the approaching women.

Before he could so much as react, Black Canary unleashed a brief burst of her Canary Cry. Huntress saw the very air distort as the scream rushed towards the assassin, hitting him right in the chest. It must have been Canary's blunt force scream rather than the ear-piercing one as the assassin was sent flying through the air, sailing over the gap created by the walls of shipping containers. Thankfully he landed on the other side of the gap, his back slamming down on top of a container, where he did get back up.

Reaching the edge, both Huntress and Canary looked down and saw two assassins were hacking at three, no, four mercenaries with their swords.

"Bonzai!" Huntress shouted as she dropped off the container, falling down to the six men. The wind whipped at the purple-clad woman's hair and cape, causing them to billow out behind her as she fell. None of the men below her noticed her, not until it was too late.

Her feet struck the shoulders of one of the assassins, the full force of her drop slamming into him and forcing the man to crumple to the ground. The moment he hit the pavement, Huntress sprung off of him, angling her body to her left. Swinging a leg, she landed a kick to the face of a nearby mercenary, the blow sending the man crashing head first against the side of a shipping container.

As the mercenary slumped down to the ground, Huntress turned her head to look at the remaining men. Her timing was perfect as she saw Black Canary drop in, doing the splits in midair. Her front foot collided with the head of the last assassin while her back rammed into the face of a mercenary, knocking them both out before they even began to fall to the ground.

Quickly closing her legs as she angled her body to land on her feet, the blonde vigilante looked right at the last two remaining mercenaries and unleashed another Canary Cry, the force of the scream sending both men flying backwards as they cried out. They crashed into the side of yet another shipping container, both of them collapsing into heaps on the ground shortly after.

Huntress had to raise an eyebrow at that. Black Canary had always been reluctant to use her Canary Cry, going so far as to use it as a last resort. She was more comfortable beating the crap out of thugs and gangsters with her fists. And yet, in the last—what, twenty seconds?—she had used it twice.

It seemed the blonde wasn't playing around tonight.

However, if one was keeping score, that was Black Canary-5, Huntress-2. That was too lopsided for the dark-haired vigilante's tastes. Thankfully, there were other assassins and mercenaries to take down.

Onward to the next fight.

But first, "Oracle, what's the stasis on our reinforcements?" she asked into her comm.

"_A couple are on their way,"_ was the immediate response. "_Still working on the others. What's the sit rep at the docks?"_

"Just like you'd imagine. The Demon's Fang is chopping up Bane's men and Bane's men are shooting up the Demon's Fang. It's a bloody mess if you take into account all the dead bodies we've run into."

"_Do what you can then. Help is one the way and I'm contacting the others."_

You didn't have to tell her twice. "Let's go, BC," Huntress told her blonde comrade. "We got more work to do."

* * *

Bane knew about the attack even before Zombie approached him. The combination of the traffic over the handheld radios and the dull sounds of gunfire had informed the masked man of everything he needed to know.

Ra's al Ghul was at his doorstep once again. That man who claimed himself the Demon's Head was here for his own and would not be satisfied without it. He was not going to waste any time demanding to know how he was discovered here. It didn't matter anymore.

However, the Santa Priscan invader was not about to surrender without a fight. No, there would be an opportunity with this. If al Ghul was so determined to chase him to the ends of the earth, then he would not run and simply turn around to greet him.

The only person who would lose their head would be Ra's al Ghul.

"This does not go any further," he informed Zombie, the last of his loyal lieutenants. "We hold here and give them not a single inch that is not stained with blood."

"Their skills outmatch ours, and lopsidedly I might add," Zombie pointed out, remaining a respectable distance away, but standing tall nonetheless.

"So we improve on ours," Bane dismissed as he towered over his subordinate. "Use all the firepower we have available. This ship is the only means home for the men, so unless they wish to lose that, they will stand and rise up to the occasion. Bring out the helicopter if you have to."

There was no hesitation when Zombie nodded. What were the odds that the thin, bald man had also considered their heavy artillery as an option?

Speaking of heavy artillery, it was time he used his own. Normally, he would wait until a pivotal moment occurred before turning on his Venom pump. Not this time; no, he would use the drug from the onset to bring this all to a quick conclusion. There would be no toying with the enemy tonight.

It did not escape him that his supply of the drug was dwindling. Including the amount he needed to take every twelve hours, he was running out and maybe had two weeks left before he was empty. Word from Santa Prisca had reached him, typically slow as any news from that island was, and no resupply could be scheduled.

The stress from this knowledge was persuading him to be more conservative with his dosages now. However, the promise of finally ending the threat from al Ghul was too much to pass up. The dial on the pump was turned and the burning sensation of Venom being absorbed throughout his body soon followed. The room began to shrink as he grew in size, muscles bulging and straining, veins popping through his skin as they pulsed hypnotically.

There. He was ready. He would not tolerate this insolence from his foe any longer.

Leaving his personal quarters, the masked man stomped his way through the hallway before entering the ship's cargo hold. In his wake, he left dents in the metal floor, a sign that this irritation and frustration, now powered by Venom, was reaching heights he had not felt since his incarceration.

As soon as he reached the hold, he came to a stop, his eyes narrowing behind his lens.

Standing before him was none other than Ra's al Ghul. Immediately he noted something different about the man, and no, it was not the change in wardrobe. As of now, the man wore a cape that draped over his left shoulder, but the portion of the other man's body not concealed revealed what appeared to be armor and a half-spherical shoulder guard. A bare, muscled arm hung casually next to the armored torso, an elbow-length arm guard stretching down from the joint to the man's wrist. The right leg exposed loose leather pants that were tucked into black and crimson combat boots.

However, that was not what struck Bane as different. It was in the stance, the youthful appearance, and the sheer confidence that radiated from al Ghul instead of simmering like it had before that put him on edge.

Behind him, Zombie slipped away, no doubt eager to fulfill the task set to him

"Only in the belly of the beast do I find you," Ra's al Ghul stated. "This will serve as the final time you and I meet."

Bane's fists clenched tighter, his knuckles turning white from the pressure. However, he spoke calmly, "On that, we are in agreement. This will not continue."

Raising up his right hand, al Ghul, grabbed at the cape he wore and tore it off. The torso-covering armor did indeed cover that much of his body, black and yellow in color, and plated no less. The padded belt around his waist was thick and in the middle of it was a symbol, one reminiscent of a demon. Attached to the belt was a sword sheath, and from that a sword was slid out of it and held at the ready.

He would not use a sword himself this time. Bane knew far too well how skilled this opponent truly was with that weapon. Any foolhardy confidence he had with allowing such an enemy to use their weapon of choice would not be present this time.

It was fortunate then that he himself had his own weapon that he specialized with. Unlike a sword, it was far more portable and he was never without it.

Raising his hands up, he cracked his knuckles in anticipation of the fight to come.

* * *

A quick note: Cassandra's use of Down is a callback to both _The Mind's Eye of Desperation _and _Clash of a Hundred Demons._ In both, she would say "up" when waking Bruce up. Naturally when knocking someone out, down would be the opposite word used.


	16. Bane's Vulnerability

As the sharp edge of the sword thrusted forward, Bane slid to a side with an agility that his bulked-up body did not seem capable of. But he was not slowed down by the mass Venom had granted him, though not because he had gained heightened speed.

He was using his own observation skills, combined with his tactical mind and prior combat experience against his opponent to accurately predict how the older, sword-wielding man was going to attack and evade as needed.

He was not going to engage in a battle of a thousand cuts again. Even with Venom coursing through his veins, enough blood loss would negate its potent effects. The masked man was going to be smart, allow his foe to bring himself in, then would he pounce.

That was the strategy, and it was one easier thought of than put into action.

Ra's al Ghul was wielding his weapon with one hand, slashing, slicing, and thrusting in rapid fashion. Unlike their previous battle, his attacks were much faster which did not make sense to the Santa Priscan. The older man showed no signs or exertion, or exhaustion from his quick strikes that Bane so far had been able to avoid even by the slightest of margins.

It was like his opponent was testing him…

As a particularly vicious thrust stabbed at him, Bane swung his arm up and knocked the blade to a side, simultaneously raising a booted foot up and kicked forward with it. With a speed the masked man more than expected, Ra's al Ghul slipped around the kick while correcting his earlier thrust into a slash. Acting immediately, Bane brought his elbow down to knock the sword off its course, bending his body to his right so as to curve out of the sharp edge's path.

Spinning on his heel, he extended a beefy arm out and swung it about, intending to use it as a clothesline. As if understanding what the next step of this violent dance was, al Ghul ducked even as he did a spin of his own, redirecting his sword once again into another slash.

Giving a short jump backwards, Bane didn't need to look behind him to know that he was close to a small stack of crates, a sign that his resources on this ship were almost dried up. Grabbing one crate, his fingers warping the strong material under his strength, he picked it up single-handedly and threw it at his enemy.

Al Ghul predictably dodged the large projectile, the crate bouncing off the floor where the man had once stood. Bane was charging forward, already predicting where his foe would evade to. The crate had obscured al Ghul's sight long enough to give the Santa Priscan enough time to close the distance between the two of them, and the smaller, bearded man attempted to use the flat side of his sword to blunt the impacting of a muscled shoulder colliding with him.

Beneath his mask, Bane smiled grimly as al Ghul was propelled backward, flying through the air with his feet barely skimming against the metal floor. The older man's legs began to move rapidly, only managing to catch his balance at the last second. The swordsman flickered his gaze to examine his weapon for less than a second, and since he did not discard it immediately, the sword was still usable.

What sort of material was it made of that it hadn't broken under his might?

No words or banter were traded. Ra's al Ghul was intent on collecting his head as he raced towards him, sword at the ready. Bane, meanwhile, bent his knees and angled his torso almost perpendicular with the floor, arms held away from his body and fingers curled in anticipation. As the slash came in, the masked man slapped it aside with his bare hand, balling his other hand into a fist and throwing it forward.

Ra's continued his forward charge, ducking under the punch and nearly going parallel with the floor. A boot foot snaked upwards and smashed into the Santa Priscan's jaw. Bane's head barely budged, Venom augmenting his muscles enough to absorb the full force of the blow.

Grabbing the other man's ankle, Bane yanked al Ghul off the ground, swinging him around in a circle. Releasing his hold, he then threw the man to the far side of the cargo hold. To his satisfaction, his enemy slammed against the unforgiving wall, force pinning him to the vertical surface momentarily before falling down. The sword escaped the bearded man's grasp and clattered away and out of sight.

His feet pounded on the floor as the masked man rushed forward, clenching his fist tightly and tensing his arm. His enemy was slowly pushing himself back onto his feet, leaning against the wall. As Bane threw his punch, al Ghul jerked out of the way, and the blow passed him, hitting and leaving a large dent in the ship's side.

Grasping his hands together, al Ghul swung them into the masked man's stomach. Barely reacting to it, Bane bent his extended arm and landed it into the side of al Ghul's head, forcing the man back onto the floor. Raising a foot up, he attempted to stomp down on his foe, but his enemy still had enough energy to roll out of the way. The Santa Priscan could feel the hard surface give way beneath him and as he adjusted his stance, an impression of his boot remained.

"You're weakening," he stated.

Wiping blood that leaked from his nose, al Ghul snorted, refusing to give a reply. Very well, he will suffer in silence.

The blows were taking their toll on the other man; it wasn't going to be long until this fight was over. It was something Bane was looking forward to, but now was not the time to picture a future that had yet to arrive.

Now was the time to make it happen.

* * *

It seemed like the whole port was a battlefield. In reality, it was just the area surrounding one ship. Gunfire lit up the area with its flashes, and light gleamed off of swords to create a macabre sight similar to that of a starry sky.

Except there was a lot of death.

It was himself, Red Robin, and Spoiler who managed to show up here at around the same time. In his head, Nightwing listed who he knew was here and who were still on the way. By his count, Bluebird, Manhunter, and Green Arrow were en route; Huntress and Black Canary should be around here somewhere.

"Be quick, take out everyone you can find," he ordered his younger partners. "Let's end this war tonight. Spoiler, stick close to Red Robin and watch his six. I'm going to try and find our Birds."

Without waiting, trusting the pair to obey him, Nightwing charged headfirst into the mayhem. Keeping low, but without compromising his speed, he tried to ignore how close the bullets were as they whizzed by, hitting anything and everything there was.

Tightening his grip on his escrimas, he struck out at the first bed guys he found, in this case two mercenaries. Swing one escrima down, he knocked one Santa Priscan's automatic rifle out of his hands, and followed up with the other electrified weapon, getting the mercenary in the side of the head. Without stopping, he swung his arm back and elbowed the man in the face, simultaneously kicking a leg out from under the criminal and sending the guy falling onto his back. To make sure the Santa Priscan was out, the vigilante kicked him in the head while continuing with his attack on his buddy.

By then, the other mercenary was turning to aim his gun at the masked man, but he was too late, Swinging an escrima upwards, he knocked the rifle's barrel in the same direction and thrust the other escrima into the man's gut. Not wasting a second, he snaked a hand around the man's shoulder, grabbed him by the back of his camouflage-styled shirt and forced the mercenary's head harshly against the side of a metal container.

Onto the next ones. One of the Demon's Fang was running into view and Nightwing intercepted. Tackling the ninja, he gave the assassin no chance to strike back, or somehow reverse the situation, punching him in the face at least twice and his fist reinforced with the handle of an escrima.

Everyone needed to go down; they could separate them later.

As more of Bane's mercenaries came into sight, firing at something—more likely someone—he couldn't see, the vigilante knew that this night was just getting started.

* * *

Keeping his mind cool but sharp, Red Robin took point, leading the way for his female counterpart, Spoiler trying to stick as close to him as she could. With their capes whipping about behind them, the pair raced on top of the large metal, storage containers that were constantly being pelted with bullets and traversed by ninjas.

With a flick of his wrist, he threw a throwing projectile that nailed one such ninja in the head while the guy was leaping off one of the containers. The blow knocked the guy off so much that he ended up smashing against the metal side of another container. Unfortunately, as the ninja bounced off of the metal surface and to the ground, he was close to a couple mercenaries that planned on finishing him off.

Running the electric current through his cape, Red Robin leapt into the air and glided towards the two mercenaries, throwing his legs in front of him and ramming into the nearest one, forcing the Santa Priscan into his buddy and knocking them both over.

Spoiler was pouncing on the first, allowing the masked teen to deal with the second, and knock both out. Slipping out a second throwing projectile, he calmly said loudly, "Duck!" and threw it in Spoiler's direction.

The hooded girl did as he had ordered and the birdarang flew over her head and awesomely stuck itself in the barrel of an automatic rifle that a third mercenary had been pointing at them. It was good timing too as the foreign killer had just pulled the trigger and you can guess what happened next.

Yeah, seeing parts of that rifle expand, followed by a flash of fire and a lot of smoke, along with a loud explosion-like gunshot, while cool, also sent the adrenaline pumping as such a sight up close made you fearful for your safety.

"Up!" Spoiler cried out, and Red Robin shielded himself with his cape just in time as a samurai sword collided with it. The material that the hardened cape was made out of held, fully within the teen's expectations.

His female counterpart took a page out of his book and threw a birdarang of her own, her aim showing improvement as it got the attacking ninja in the forehead. As the assassin's head jerked back, Red Robin let himself fall back so as to give himself an angle to kick both of his feet into the dark-clad man's stomach.

The former Gothamite then felt a weight press against his cape, which he had not deactivated it and he caught sight of a dark-colored boot swinging and landing in the side of the ninja's head, using enough force to bring him down.

Spoiler was landing on her feet, pushing off with her arms so that she wasn't balancing on the teen's cape. Getting to his feet, he remarked, "Not bad," praising her improvement.

"Oh, uh, thanks. I've been...practicing," the girl vigilante said, trying to sound cool, but not really succeeding.

"Time to test it out some more," he replied, getting ready to the lead the way once more. Faintly, he heard the sound of something firing overhead, and thanks to recent weeks, he had learned it was the noise made when an arrow was shot from a bow.

Glancing up, he got his confirmation as an arrow flew overhead and then Green Arrow came into sight, making the jump that Red Robin had interrupted earlier with the ninja. The cavalry was here, but this wasn't the time to celebrate just yet.

"Come on!" he called over his shoulder as he took off into a run.

* * *

His feet pounding on top of the shipping crates, Green Arrow didn't stop for a second as he leapt into the air, aiming for the two assassins that were cornering one of Bane's deluded followers. His feet slammed into the back of one of the assassins' heads, and from there he used them as a springboard to continue moving forward, holding his bow out in front of him to use it to reinforce his fist as that came into contact with the mercenary's face.

Feeling the shock of his fist meeting a skull moving up his arms, he allowed his momentum to continue pushing himself forward so that he ended up running over the schmuck. Already holding his bow at the ready, he drew an arrow and spun around, firing back at the two assassins he had struck first.

The arrow detonated and released a large net that pinned down the two ninjas. It wouldn't hold those guys down for long, especially if they were worth their salt. It was a means to stall as more of Bane's band of merry men came into view.

Another arrow was fired, this one releasing his personal favorite, a boxing glove that knocked one of the aggressors flat on his ass. Seeing his buddy taken down by a prop, one of the men pointed his finger right at the vigilante, and the arrow-wielding fighter took that as an opportunity to duck for cover.

It was good timing too; bullets began to pelt where he had just stood.

While still on alert, Green Arrow took the chance for a breather. For some strange reason, once bad guys began shooting their guns, they tended not to do anything else for a bit. The very lack of noise would give away that they were closing in.

This whole thing was crazy, but at least simple. Take down everybody who was either in black or camo. The difficulty came in the combo of numbers and the area. There were so many places to hiding and very little open spaces. You'd think Bane would have kept it more organized, but hey, maybe they did things differently in Santa Prisca.

Still, this area was a bit familiar. He recalled finding one of that steroid junkie's weapon dumps nearby. Looks like he was busy offloading whatever else he had left.

Noticing the absence of gunfire, he knew that play time was about to start up again. Reaching for his belt, he removed a small capsule, waiting a few seconds as he listened for the crunching sounds of boots treating on pavement...and there it was.

Tossing the capsule around the container, he quick closed his eyes, the darkness behind his lids flashing red as the capsule released a blinding flash of light. Hearing the cries and Spanish curses, the vigilante slipped out from his cover and proceeding to lay the smack down on the three blinded mercenaries.

A chop to the throat for the first one, a kick to the stomach for the second, add a spin/flip to his raised leg, and he was bringing down a vicious punch to the head of the third man. As the third guy fell, he swung an elbow into the back of the head of the first mercenary, just before landing on his feet with catlike grace.

As the first victim fell to his knees, Green Arrow took mercy on the second one, attaching his bow to his back while clasping his hands together, raising them up, and performing a jackhammer blow that put the guy out of his misery. Then, almost casually, he leveled a kick into the ass of the first mercenary, which forced the guy to go face first into the pavement and knocked him out finally.

Pulling his bow back out, he removed another arrow, this one an experimental one. He hadn't had time to work out the kinks yet, but he figured now was as good a time as any to try it out. Turning to the captured ninjas who by now had cut through his net and were pulling themselves free, he fired the arrow, aiming between the two of them.

As the arrow was passing between the two of them, a concussive force exploded out of it and toss the pair away from one another, one right into a nearby shipping container and the other to crash unceremoniously onto the ground, bouncing a couple times before coming to a stop.

Nice, it worked. He couldn't tell if there were any bugs needed to be fixed right now, but he would check on those guys later. It was suppose to be non-lethal, provided that the notes on such technology hadn't lied to him.

Okay, where to next? He thought about catching up with his Pretty Bird, maybe sharing a moment kicking ass together. Something romantic like that. That had been the thought until something loud and high up caught his attention.

Looking around, he spotted a helicopter coming into sight. For a second, he thought it belong to the local cops, but his gut argued otherwise.

When the aircraft began to fire a barrage of bullets, he figured his gut was right.

* * *

From his seat next to the pilot, Zombie gazed dispassionately as countless bullets were fired out into port, hitting everything in sight. Odds were good that many of their men were being killed thanks to this attack, but Ra's al Ghul's men were suffering just as much. The men would understand; they fell in Bane's name, and each death would serve to bring their master that much closer to victory.

The dark-clad enemy troops were scrambling for cover, but even their speed that served to help them against Bane's men did not avail them here. It wasn't often that Zombie expressed anything, but he was feeling some satisfaction here, and a small smirk was warranted.

"Don't let up," he told the pilot calmly. "Fire at anything that moves."

He received an affirmative from the pilot, and allowed himself the chance to enjoy the sight below him.

One way or another, they were ending this farce tonight.

* * *

"Just when I think I can't get surprised anymore," Manhunter muttered to herself, racing away from the area the helicopter was shooting at.

Somebody wasn't playing around here, and she figured that Bane was the owner of that aircraft. The Demon's Fang didn't seem the type to bring along that level of heavy artillery.

"Anyone hear me? What are we doing about that goddamn chopper?" she demanded through her earpiece. To her frustration, she had trouble hearing whoever responded as the helicopter moved in her direction.

Some choice words were said as she watched one of the shipping containers get torn apart by the barrage of high caliber bullets.

It didn't need to be said that they were going to have to take that thing down before someone got seriously hurt. Correction, before anyone of them got hurt. Seeing a ninja just get mowed down before her eyes made that amendment required.

But how were they—what the hell was she thinking? She had a way, her staff! Where Batman was able to get his hands on one just like her old one, she did not know, but right now she was not about to complain about it. All she needed to do was get a good shot and knock it out of the sky. There was a risk that the pilot would be seriously hurt, but what other choice was there?

Getting the staff ready to fire an energy blast, Manhunter peeked around her cover, doing her best to get a good look where the helicopter was as well as any signs of Bane's men, or the Demon's Fang. The last thing she needed was one of those guys stopping her before she could fire a shot off.

The helicopter was moving, putting her position at a disadvantage as she no longer had a clear shot. Damn it.

As she was about to move and dash off for another vantage, her heart almost stopped as she heard a whooshing sound, one that was followed by the sight of a missile streaking by, a trail of smoke in its wake. The loud explosion only confirmed what she already knew; the copter was armed with more than machine gun turrets.

The level of danger only skyrocketed here; that helicopter needed to be taken out _now_.

Gripping her staff, Manhunter raced off to do just that.

* * *

Ra's had only seen Bane use his Venom once and even then the masked man had used it for escape. Now that Venom-infused strength was being used against him.

It was nothing short of incredible.

The damage to the cargo hold showed just what terrible might Bane wielded. Ra's body could feel the blows throughout his body, regardless of whether they had hit him, or missed. The vibrations each blow made when they hit a wall, or the floor traveled through his body. Of course, the ones that successfully hit him were even more jarring.

And the Detective had gone up against this...and lost.

Ra's could feel a trickle of blood coming from nose, which joined another that was starting to well up at the corner of his mouth, creating a drip that went down his chin. He had been unaware of it until that very moment. He was unsure of the source of the bleeding, be it a cut in his mouth, or somewhere inside of his body, which then welled up into his mouth. The former was preferable.

However, anymore blows from Bane and Ra's was certain he would lose. He was beginning to slow down in spite of his body's increased vitality. He couldn't keep this up.

Bane was charging at him again and Ra's quickly pulled himself out of his thoughts. He darted a hand behind his back, where he grabbed onto the hilt of a dagger, one that was extending out of his belt. Pulling it out, he quickly threw it, the dagger flying through the air like a missile towards Bane.

He had been aiming for the larger man's head, but Bane merely jerked his head to one side and the knife flew by harmlessly, brushing up against the Venom tube that extended out of the man's head. Drawing a fist back, Bane launched it towards Ra's.

In an instant, Ra's dove to a side, going into a roll that ended with him crouched on his feet. Bane's punch sailed through the air harmlessly. However, Bane drew his extended arm toward his chest, pivoting on one foot as he swung the other off the floor.

The kick, hastily performed, merely clipped the side of Ra's head. That was enough to send the Demon's Head flying through the air, albeit low to the floor. His body collided with the floor a moment later and he went tumbling across it, his body bending in what felt like every awkward position conceivable. Throughout it all, he somehow ended up on his back.

Though he was hurt, the only saving grace of this was Bane's kick glancing him rather than making full contact. If a partial blow had done this, it was frightening to consider what would have happened had Bane's foot fully collided with his head. Thoughts of his skull caving in assaulted the older man, ones he quickly squashed.

Rolling onto his side and then his stomach, he was quick to push himself up. By then, Bane was practically on top of him, his large fist flying right for his face.

There was no time except to react. Ra's jerked himself to a side, narrowly avoiding the fist as it rushed right by his head and over his shoulder by a paper's width. Shooting his arms up, he wrapped them around Bane's forearm and then swung his legs up, wrapping them around the upper arm. Straightening out his body even as he pulled hard against Bane's arm, he began to hyper-extend the appendage, which stopped Bane in his tracks.

Though large and powerful, that did not remove a body's natural weak points. The joints would always be vulnerable and the pain that was going up the rest of his foe's arm would stop him from countering.

But then Bane stood up to his full height and raised his hyper-extended arm up until Ra's felt he was parallel to the floor. The man didn't stop there as he began to flex his arm. Though Ra's resisted as much as he could, he could not stop Bane, his own strength being overpowered by Bane's. He didn't stand a chance as he felt the man's bicep bulge even as the arm became a right angle.

"How pitiful, old man," Bane growled at him.

Ra's eyed his opponent if only for an instant. His attention immediately shifted to the Venom tube, the green fluid constantly flowing through it and into Bane's head. Already he had visions of his dagger passing by the tube, brushing it, but not damaging it. Bane had not given it a second thought during his charge.

Yet, Ra's recognized it for what it was. It was the one weakness in this dragon's scaly armor. That tube gave Bane his inhuman strength.

What would happen were it to be taken away?

Adjusting his legs against Bane's arm, Ra's then released the forearm, pulling himself around it and using the arm to crawl around his body's massive body. His movements were so quick, Bane had little time to react and failed to do so. In an instant, Ra's grabbed onto the Venom tube and swung his body around until he forced his feet into Bane's back, using it to steady him. He jerked the tube, which caused Bane's head to snap painfully back, a cry coming from his lips. He reached with his arms to try and grab the older man, unable to reach him due to his increased bulk.

Though his sword was not in hand, Ra's was undeterred. Again, he reached to his back and removed the second, and last dagger he kept there. With ease, he sliced the Venom tube, severing it in one cut. Immediately, the Venom began pouring out from the tube from both openings.

Splashed with the vile fluid, Ra's then pushed off the man's back, releasing his hold on the severed tube as he went into a flip. Shooting his hands above his head, they pressed down on the floor, which he used to spring back up into the air, landing on his feet a moment later.

By the time his eyes found Bane, he noticed a considerable difference. Already, the incredible hulk was shrinking in size, his muscles returning to their normal size. No, they were shrinking further. It was slight, by it seemed Bane was losing muscle mass and height. It wasn't much, mind you, but it was enough to tell him that Bane's constant use of Venom kept him at a constant augmented state. That was an unexpected benefit he should have realized sooner.

And that benefit was pouring out of Bane's skull through the damaged tube.

"Gyyyaahhhh!" Bane gasped as he cringed on himself. His respirations had increased, growing louder as well. He stumbled one step, then two, before slowly twisting around to look at the Demon.

"It would appear I've found your weakness," Ra's observed as he straightened out his posture. Lazily, he spotted his sword, discarded on the floor close by. How fortunate. "A fatal one I assure you."

* * *

As the helicopter propellers sliced through the air, bullets filled the air with both smoke and dust as anything and everything in sight was decimated. From his seat in the cockpit, Zombie showed no signs of being affected by the carnage. The only time he did express anything was when he caught sight of a lone figure suicidally sticking their neck out.

In this case, it was the vigilante Manhunter, the woman raising up the staff she wielded like it was a firearm, aiming straight at the hovering aircraft.

"Blow her to pieces," Zombie commented. While they were some distance away, he was able to pick out enough details to recognize who the interloper was. It was far past time that he put her down.

The pilot silently acquiesced, pressing down on a small red button and firing another missile directly at the vigilante. Was it overkill? Yes, but the time for restraint was long past. These extreme measures would be more than needed if Bane was to finally close his grip over this city.

No more pests.

Unexpectedly, a loud sound accompanied by a rippling shockwave slammed into the missile from a side. Zombie immediately sought out the source of this shockwave, finding another woman, a blonde standing out in the open and appearing to scream. Undoubtedly having noticed the danger her teammate was in, this woman called the Black Canary used her meta-powered scream to knock the missile out of the sky. She didn't appear as if she were holding back either as she successfully knocked the missile off course.

Thanks to the explosive's targeting device, it struggle to reorient itself and return to its planned course. As a result, while in the middle of correcting itself, it went too far out and ended up impacting the base of the large loading crane that towered over the port. The explosion tore apart a corner of the crane's latticed boom, and its massive weight leaned down on the damaged area.

As more and more weight pressed down, metal began to give way, and thanks to the age of the large loading machine, combined with the trauma-exposed metal, the crane began to wobble. With a loud, shrieking groan, it was unable to remain upright and started to fall, the crane's jib leading its downward fall.

Zombie's eyes widened in horror as he realized where the crane was falling, and more importantly what it was going to hit.

There was nothing he could do as the metal loading device fell towards the _Espina de Rosa_, the very ship that had brought them here.

* * *

His prey was vulnerable in a way he hadn't experienced in a long time. Ra's stood before Bane, weaponless, but very much a threat. Even now Bane's strength was leaving him, leaking out of his body much like the Venom that was draining out of his severed tube, pooling at his feet in a green puddle. Ra's sword laid discarded a few feet away from him and it would only take a moment to retrieve it.

And then the roof caved in.

It was as sudden as it was unexpected. With a booming crash, the ceiling splintered and cracked an instant before it crumbled. A large crane arm dropped into view, roughly hitting the floor where it miraculously stopped. Debris piled up around the metal scaffolding of the crane, dust filling the air.

Ra's had darted back a couple steps to avoid any more falling debris, never once taking his eyes from Bane. Through the partially-covered crane, he could see Bane too backing away, holding an arm close to his face for protection. He eyed the mess between them before straightening out his posture.

"It would seem we must postpone our battle once more," Bane remarked, looking straight to Ra's. Those very words infuriated him. "Count yourself lucky, Demon's Head. The next time will be your last."

Ra's instinctively lunged towards the crane, his body crashing up against the debris, which formed too strong of a barrier for him to break through. Eyes flaring, mouth snarling, the older man was helpless as he watched his prey spin around and flee, heading out the exit at the furthest wall.

"You will not escape me!" he bellowed after the man, his hands wrapping around the metal bars of the crane. "I will find you, no matter where you hide!"

Tearing himself away from the crudely-created barrier, Ra's stormed towards his sword and snatched it up from the floor. His rage was palpable and he felt a terrible need to kill. It mattered very little the who, just as long as blood was spilled. The only balm for his mood was Bane's blood, which was now denied to him.

But he would find him, oh yes. No one stayed hidden from Ra's al Ghul. It could be tomorrow; it could be ten years; all whom he sought out were exposed and slain. Bane would be no different. The next time he would take in all factors and control them. There would be no surprises; no more clowns to interfere, or cranes to separate him from the killing blow.

The next time would truly be the last time.

* * *

To FlackAttack: It's right out of the comics. Check out _The Resurrection of Ra's al Ghul._ Damien's wearing what his comic counterpart is when he, Talia, and Tim Drake are escaping from Ra's men while Batman leads Ra's to Nanda Parbat.


	17. Ambushed By Fear

Despite the weakness he felt, Bane forced himself to keep moving, leading the way for his remaining forces. His breathing was heavier, as if he could not get enough air, and it served as a guiding soundtrack to the rest of his men who followed after him.

If he had been frustrated before, the masked man's rage was close to overcoming him now. The defeat at the port, along with the loss of the _Espina de Rosa_, should not have happened. More importantly, the revelation that his invincibility had a major flaw to it gave him a feeling that he had not felt in a long time.

However, he recognized it for what it was. How long had it truly been since he had felt fear before? Venom hadn't been the thing that removed it from him; it was an emotion that he slowly rid himself of while wasting away in the Cavidad Oscuro, the portion of Peña Duro that served as solitary confinement. With only a grate overhead that allowed both sunlight and the tide itself in thanks to the cells being below sea level, it had been in that hell that he had conquered weakness.

Which was frustrating to feel once more.

Behind him, he could hear the whisperings from the men. No, it was not about anything concerning mutiny, far from it. It was morale; the continued losses were weighing down on them, men who had been used to obtaining victory after victory with almost no effort.

Right about now, he wanted to snap some orders, have Zombie enforce his will, or something to reestablish that he was the one in control. Zombie, though, was already following an order, and that was to reinforce the warehouse where Tetch's project was being constructed. Right now, that was the only effort that was going according to plan.

It was time to go all in on it, it seemed.

He wanted to snarl, to hit something, or someone, anything to relieve him of this feeling he was having. Gotham should be his right now, why was he still fighting for it and why was he putting all his eggs into the Tetch basket? Why did he feel so weak when he was a god among men? He was not ordinary, far from it. Despite his early life in prison, he was destined for greatness, for more than what Santa Prisca could offer.

But Santa Prisca had been no cakewalk. To conquer it, he had to improve himself first. That was what he needed to do again. Already, he knew where to begin. The unforeseen liability that was the tubing that connected him with his Venom feed. That would have to be improved first, strengthened so that it could not be cut, or pulled from the ports in his head. That would have to be Zombie's first task once they rendezvoused.

Calm began to settled over him now; having a concrete plan did that for him. Only now could he see that Gotham was more than a stepping stone, it was a proving ground and only the worthy were capable of conquering it. If the Batman was able to do it, then so would he rise to that challenge.

Snapping off an order in Spanish to the dredges that remained of his men, he began leading the way, heading towards the warehouse and Tetch's project. The new plan would be to keep a low profile, push Tetch to finish early, then reap the rewards of his investment.

"Bane."

The masked Santa Priscan came to a stop, his men on high alert as a voice spoke, seemingly coming from nowhere. It appeared that someone disagreed with his redirection. Once again, Gotham was testing him.

"Who calls me out!" he demanded, yelling loudly as he searched his surroundings. Though not connected to his Venom, he would not allow his weakness to hold him back.

He overheard one of the men yell out something, and turning in that man's direction, he soon spotted the large, gray cloud of smoke that billowed without any source. That had to be the threat, and without hesitation he took point, standing before his token force like the leader he was.

"Show yourself!" Bane ordered, cracking his knuckles in a show of strength, despite the weakness his muscles screamed at him.

Finally obeying him, a figure emerged from the smoke. Initially, based on the general outline, Bane thought that it was someone similar in shape to the Batman, bringing back to mind Cobblepot's claims. But that couldn't be, he had broken the Bat. This was some imitator, it had to be.

He was proven right as a cloaked man with a mask designed as a skull left the smoke, his cloak covering most of his body. With a deep, ominous voice, the man declared, "Your angel of death awaits."

Bane would never admit this, but he felt a measure of relief. This had to be the man who attacked Cobblepot. Another imitator, like those other vigilantes from North Gotham.

"You seek my life?" Bane stated, staring down this latest attacker. "Come, show me that you are worthy of me." He fell into an offensive stance, gesturing with two fingers for the masked foe to engage with him.

His words also served as a cue for his men to stand back. They needed a morale boost and nothing motivated them more than watching their master in action.

The cloaked attacker accepted his invitation, lunging forward and revealing a curved blade that substituted for his hand. Immediately, Bane switched into a defensive stance, the memories of Ra's al Ghul with his sword still sharp in his memory.

He blocked first, the back of his fist colliding with the attacker's forearm, allowing him to parry away the blade that stabbed towards him, all the while taking a step backwards. He was right to so as the attacker reversed and turned the evaded thrust into a slash. The tip of the metal weapon nearly glided over the Santa Priscan's bared chest, prompting him to back up more.

Expecting this latest threat to press on the attack, Bane was mildly surprised when the hooded man pulled back himself, as if studying his opponent. Or perhaps he was plotting a new plan of attack.

Taking a step to a right, then another, Bane began to circle his enemy, the attacker reflecting him. Normally, Bane would have gone on the offensive, but he still hadn't recovered fully from the sudden withdrawal of Venom and had yet to repair the damage to the feed. He felt drained, listless. His body was smaller than usual, shriveled in comparison to his usual massive frame. As much as he did not wish it, his own, unaugmented strength would have to be enough here—it had to be.

Deciding on an action, the hooded attacker pulled out three needles from his gloved hand and threw them much how Zombie would a knife. Under different circumstances, Bane would have used his own arm as a shield to block the throwing projectiles, but this time he jerked himself out of the way. As it turned out, that was the correct move to make as one of the needles struck one of his remaining men and detonated, the man crying out in shock and pain from the burst of flames and concussive force.

Already he could hear the other men speaking to themselves, lamenting the latest of their comrades to fall and speaking a fear that the end was upon them all.

No, it was not the end. It was far from that. He would not allow it.

Disregarding caution, Bane took the initiative and lunged forward, swinging a right hook at this opponent's head. Predictably, the masked man ducked, just as Bane had intended as he swung an uppercut from below with his other hand. It was another miss, but he remained undeterred. He threw a few more punches, which his surprisingly lithe enemy also evaded.

The way the light bounced off that hand-replacing blade was enough warning for the Santa Priscan to avoid the slash that aimed at his thick neck.

As if expecting this, the phantom-like man allowed his movement to continue, his body turning and the next thing Bane knew, a kick to his abdomen landed the first blow of the skirmish. To his increasing frustration, his weakness was more pronounced than he had expected as the blow made him stumble, forcing him to quickly regain his footing.

With a growl, Bane whipped his head up and instantly regretted the motion. He barely threw his head back in time to avoid the follow-up slash, the blade managing the slice a rip into his mask, just under his nose.

As if sensing that he had him on the ropes, the phantom assassin attempted another thrust, but Bane was quick enough to bring both of his hands up and catch the blade, his palms on either side of the weapon, preventing it from piercing his body. While he wasn't at full strength, or augmented, he was still strong enough to hold that lethal weapon still. Now if he was able to rip it off—

Because he paid too much attention to the blade, he did not see the attacker's other gloved hand come into a view, but he became aware of it when a cloud of thick, gray smoke fired from it and into his face. He took a breath of the smoke before he could stop himself, and already he could feel his lungs begin to burn.

He shoved the other masked man away and backed off, needing to get his bearings. The fact that the smoke could also serve as a smokescreen was already a possibility to him and he refused to allow this attacker anymore advantages.

However, it seemed this foe was content in pulling away as well, watching him sharply. What the reason for this was, Bane did not know and he did not care. What he did know was that he wanted this skirmish ended, _now_.

As he readied himself for another attack, that's when the disorientation hit. Something was off—the smoke! There was something in it!

Due to his time as an assassin, he had come across various concoctions used to delay him from killing his targets. Through that, he had discovered a side effect of Venom that he doubted even its creator knew about. Thanks to the continuous infusions of the steroid, the Santa Priscan man had found out that he had gained a vulnerability to any kind of substance that affected the brain. Such creations were faster acting than what was normal for a layman, and whatever he had been dosed with would be no different.

He glared at his opponent, already cursing the man, except the man was...changing somehow. He was getting..,taller. Darker. Bane could feel his heart rate pick up and this was especially true as the hooded man face began to morph, growing large teeth and flaming eyes. Claws tore out of the tips of the man's fingers and the cape began to rise up, taking on a leathery quality to them.

Time seemed to stop, an irrational fear paralyzing him as the sensation of terror, one almost forgotten took hold. The creature before him, that towered over him and everything, he knew it. He had seen it before.

As a small child, weak and pathetic, huddling in a cell and tormented by the catcalls of other prisoners, the shadow of this beast tormented him, waiting for him to fall asleep and terrorize his nightmares. That it shared various aspects of a bat…

Perhaps that is why he was fascinated with the Batman in the first place. Because that vigilante bore so many similarities with this demon from his past. To break the Batman would be to conquer this monster and finally free himself from the shackles of incarceration.

And he had broken that Batman, destroyed him utterly. Clenching his fist, he swore that this battle would be no different.

"You have no control over me," he roared at the creature. "I've already beaten you. I will do so again!"

Like a man possessed, he charged at his childhood tormentor. Predictably, the beast always seemed to be out of reach, but that only hardened Bane's determination. He would not stop until he killed this thing, even if that meant his own destruction.

He went all out, swinging fist after fist at this menace. His tormentor glided backwards to avoid his punches, always watching, waiting for an opportunity to strike. Bane would not give it any. Switching from punches to kicks, he lunged forward as he swing his leg, forcing the dark assailant to leap away. Bringing his extended leg down, Bane threw himself forward, throwing another, rage-induced fist. Though he was a shadow of his normal height, he still was taller than this foe and he swung his fist downward. The attacker leaped out of its path and Bane's fist collided with the ground, a spider's web of cracks forming instantly from the impact.

Though he was in a vulnerable position, Bane knew how to rectify this. Lunging forward, he went into a roll, ending back on his feet right before the monster. Springing upward, he swung another uppercut, again missing as his foe dodged backwards. Bending his extended arm at the elbow, he darted forward, leading with his elbow, then at the last moment fully extending his arm.

There! The back of his fist finally slammed into the side of the beast, and the cry of rage was sweet, sweet music to his ears. Curiously, the monster's body felt thinner than he had anticipated.

A large claw, singular in nature swung at him, but he blocked by catching the beast's wrist and twisted his torso, swinging and throwing the monster away and down the street they fought on.

Bracing a leg, Bane declared, "I will BREAK YOU!" and began a second charge. To his satisfaction, he noted how the demon seemed to be trying to drag itself away, pained snarls slipping out of its toothy mouth. Good. _Good_.

Leaping up into the air, adrenaline serving to boost his abilities this time, he plummeted down over the creature, swinging a fist down, down, down, and into the pavement as the beast slipped away once more. Almost like a fog or a cloud, the bat demon seemed to dissolve, very much like how it would appear in his dreams. When the fog dissipated, the creature was no longer there.

The next thing he knew, he heard the cheers of his men, but that wasn't as sweet as hearing more cries of agony from his inner demon given life. He had trouble grasping what was happening, but a physical shake of his head helped to center himself if only for the moment.

The fight was not yet done. However that demon managed to slip away, he was unable to recall, but he would not rest until he killed it. Only then, once the last bat that haunted him was dead and gone, would this city truly be his.

Only then would he know peace.

* * *

The two dark-colored suburbans raced down the highway, the Gotham River siding up mere feet away from the road itself. Guardrails were set up on the edge of the pavement, a defense to prevent anyone from driving off and into the murky waters.

It was completely dark, the stars in the sky barely noticeable thanks to the light pollution from the streetlights that lined the highway. They lit up the area, serving to minimize the need for headlights, but those were still turned on. They probably didn't need them since the highway itself was deserted.

Flag knew he was ready for this jaunt. He knew his team was as well. Instead of doing what they did at the power plant, he had taken the time to getting his hands on the plans for the Gotham City Reservoir and studying them. They all knew the layout and, more importantly, they knew where in the structure they needed to go in order to shut off the water.

Doing such a thing would no doubt be crippling to the people trapped on that island, but it was necessary in order to fight the Santa Priscan invaders. The guerrillas employed were not the threat that Flag and his team were concerned with. Those men only had more training than your standard beat cop. They themselves were highly trained military operatives, some of the best in the country. If they felt like it, they would be able to eliminate the Santa Priscans in a quick and efficient manner.

It was their commander, Bane, who was deemed the true threat. Based on their intelligence, Flag knew that a simply firing squad would not be enough to put that hostile down.

That was why the water was his next target. Though Bane's forces came from a third world country, desalination techniques beyond a simply fire were not within their capabilities. The amount of water Bane would need to keep his men hydrated would weaken and stretch his forces beyond their breaking point.

And Flag didn't put it beneath that human guinea pig that he would willingly decrease his water intake in an effort to appear tougher than the rest.

Up ahead, the Reservoir came into view, and the squad leader adjusted his grip on his weapon. This time, they were ready for any interference from the local vigilante insurgency. Nothing was going to stop him and his team form completing their mission. Not caring about any opposing traffic, the two vehicles made a left and left the highway to enter the private street that led to their destination.

Then the line of eighteen wheelers lined up at the Reservoir gate was spotted.

They all looked like the kind that carried fuel, the trailers round and oblong. Flag supposed they were full of fluoride for the fluoridation process. That would account for how many of these trucks there were.

However, they were in the way.

"Move around them," Flag ordered, the driver obeying and pulling into the next lane, the one for exiting traffic.

They didn't slow down until the gate itself appear, and only after coming to a complete stop did Flag exit the suburban. From his periphery, he noted the truck drivers watching from their higher positions in the truck cabs, though these men did nothing but watch.

It was to a small security booth that Flag marched his way to, leading the rest of his team with him. The guard looked confused, staring at them blankly.

Flag didn't waste any time. "Are you in charge? Do not let these trucks through. We're with the United States Army and request to speak with your superior."

That got a reaction from the security guard, the portly man swallowing. He seemed nervous, but Flag dismissed it. He had seen such behavior before and this would not be the last time. The hesitation was expected as well. "I'm not sure…"

"Get your superior here, or on a telecommunication, but do it now," the commando interrupted. "This is an urgent matter."

The guard bit his lip and now the squad leader was feeling irritated. He was about to fire off another order when something metal clinked against the pavement.

Whipping his head around and behind him, he spotted what looked like a round-ended cylinder bouncing off the road, flipping over itself, and suddenly detonating and releasing a cloud of white smoke.

It came so suddenly that no member of the team was able to cover their mouths and nose in time, the gaseous substance entering their bodies through their noses and into their lungs. Even as he coughed, Flag was going over in his head what this gas could be, from some chemical agent to an aerosol poison. What had he and his team been dosed with?

"Sorry, Army Man, but you have no authority here."

Even with a gloved hand raised over his mouth, his shoulders heaving from each cough he made, Flag was quick to flicker his eyes about until spotting a figure crouched on top of one of the truck cabs. A dark coat covered much of the person's body, but the burlap sack with stitching on it stuck out very prominently.

_Who the hell is that?_

Immediately, Flag aimed his weapon at the threat, the person he suspected was responsible for the gaseous attack, if that was the case. All that aside, whoever this was had made themselves a hostile and needed to be eliminated.

To the masked person's credit, he or she was ducking out of sight. A smart move on their part, but frustrating for the squad leader as now they needed to hunt them down and neutralize the threat.

"Fan out! Neutralize them!" Flag called out, keeping his eyes trained on where he had last seen the masked figure. Already, he felt his heart beating faster, and the edges of his vision seemed foggier, but other than that he felt fine.

"There is no need for that!" the mysterious attacker called out. "You have bigger worries now!"

Flag did not hold back the snort that came out of him. That was a new addition to the mission that needed to be handled and he was—_what the!_

Finally taking his eyes off the roof of the truck cab, the commando was about to throw himself into action except he found that beside him was not one of his teammates. Instead, he saw an insurgent, like the kind he had faced in various Middle Eastern countries. Turban, beard, dark brown skin, and dark eyes that glared angrily at him, and a military grade rifle aimed right at him, Flag felt himself freeze up for a second.

His attention shifted all over his gaze, his never leaving this new threat as he took in his surroundings. Somehow, someway, his team was gone and replaced with other hostiles, not all of Middle East descent. Some were South American, others from East and Southeast Asia, and there was even a Russian as well. Those that weren't, were rotting where they stood.

And all of them were armed.

Vaguely, he heard someone speak, and it sounded like "You'll be taking care of yourselves for me."

That meant nothing to him as he began to open fire.

* * *

The engine to the car rumbled until it fell silent. The canopy slid forward and Batman hauled himself out of his car, his feet clashing against the metal floor. Walking off the turnstile, the metal surface turning to stone, he headed for the supercomputer, his cape wrapping around his body.

Many things had happened tonight, none of which he had been able to become involved. The Network had been called in to handle another skirmish between Ra's al Ghul and Bane. He was sure to get the report once everything was settled, though it was too much to hope that either foe was defeated. He was fully expecting a continuation of the current stalemate between the two sides.

The reason he had been unable to participate was due to another project he was involved in. It had taken him to another part of the city and by the time he heard of the battle, it was concluded.

However, that was not all he had learned. When he returned to his car, he found an alarm had been triggered at the Cave. Zatanna and Cassandra were there last he knew, so whatever had triggered the alarm would be easily handled. Yet, neither woman had seen to turning the alarm off.

That was the worrying part.

The way the system worked: when an alarm went off, it sent a message to the main computer and the other online systems, such as the one in the car, the flying wing, and so forth. To stop the alarm, the message had to be acknowledged, which would stop the signal. That had yet to occur.

Whatever concern he had, it evaporated the moment he saw Zatanna seated in the computer chair. The dark-haired woman was rubbing the back of her neck, a sour look on her face. She was facing in his direction, so she clearly saw him approach. "You sure took your time coming back," she grumbled.

"Something happen?" he ventured, coming to stand in front of his long-time friend.

"Something did, though your daughter took care of it. You might want to take a look."

_Take a look?_ Batman raised an eyebrow at that. "Don't give me that look," Zatanna reprimanded him. Even with his mask on, she could read him clear as day. "Batgirl took our little intruder to some holding cell you have here."

_Intruder?_ The vigilante's face hardened just before he pivoted on his feet and began walking towards an alcove on the far side of the cave. There was only one cell he knew Cassandra knew about and she would undoubtedly be there. Despite the feelings he had to an actual intruder in his cave—something he found quite galling to say the least—his attention was on something else Zatanna had said.

She had called Cassandra Batgirl. Whenever they were alone, the magician had always called the girl by her name. The use of her code name meant Zatanna didn't feel safe using the girl's real name with the intruder in the Cave, even when locked up. She must have had a reason for that.

Reaching the alcove, he found Batgirl standing in front of the monitor, watching their captive. Approaching her, the young vigilante didn't so much as twitch at his arrival. Apparently she wasn't in the mood to greet him.

So he came to a stop behind her left shoulder and looked over it at the screen. Much to his surprise, there was a young boy inside the cell.

_This_ was the intruder?

"Mind telling me what's going on?" he inquired.

Batgirl finally turned her head to look at him. "This boy managed to infiltrate the Cave. I'm not sure how he did so without tripping an alarm, but I stopped him and placed him in here."

But the alarm had gone off. The computer in his car had told him of that. Still, now wasn't the time to delve into that. "What have you learned from him?"

"He doesn't seem to like me." At this, Batgirl looked back at the monitor. "When he woke up, he began yelling things about meeting his father. When I tried talking with him, he called me usurper and said I would get what's coming to me."

A boy making threats? They would just have to see about that. Eyeing the child's white-and-blue suit, he searched his memory for what those colors would signify and came up with nothing. A person's colors often identified allegiances; the same could be said of armor and weapons. "What did he have on him?" he asked.

"A few knives and throwing stars. He's had some training and knows how to use them."

Batman's face hardened. What was a child doing with such weapons? Add that to the fact that he found the Cave and managed to infiltrate it led him to a conclusion he didn't quite like. More evidence would be needed before he assumed any more.

"Perhaps I should question him," he said then and began to move around Batgirl. The girl suddenly jerked away the moment his body drew closer to her, which gave the man pause. Eyeing her, Batman realized just how stiffly his daughter was holding herself. In fact, he could see her edging away from him.

What was this now?

"You may want to hold off on that," Zatanna suddenly said from behind him. Turning, Batman purposefully angled his body towards Batgirl and turned his head to look towards the magician. The dark-haired woman was standing a short distance away from them and she had a stern look on her face. "We have something to talk to you about."

Instinctively, Batman wanted to say it could wait. He needed to know about this child intruder and the sooner the better. Whatever behavior Batgirl was exhibiting could wait and whatever importance Zatanna was putting onto it was likely overblown.

However, she raised her hand up, a small object clutched in between her fingers. She was holding it out so that he could clearly see it. Glancing at it, Batman was about to dismiss it when he realized it was a flash drive and that its design was of a futuristic quality.

Immediately, his stomach sank, his skin going cold and pale.

"Where did you find that?" he demanded breathlessly.

Zatanna took a couple steps towards him, though she held the flash drive before her, never once extending it towards him. "In a locked drawer at the computer. We've seen what's on it." Those very words intensified the churning in his stomach. "We know you went to the future."

This couldn't be happening. No one was supposed to know about that flash drive. Already his mind was thinking of a hundred possible ways these two women could have bypassed all of his security protocols, but not a one of them was feasible. He felt numb all the way into his toes and fingertips.

Due to this, he didn't immediately respond. Zatanna didn't seem the least bit put off by that. "Why didn't you tell us about this?" she asked succinctly.

"Because no one is supposed to know," was his immediate response.

This caused Zatanna to narrow her eyes. "Why not? Is it because you don't trust us? Is it because you think we couldn't handle seeing what you saw? How the Justice League became evil dictators and killed everyone that opposed them?" She took a final step towards Batman, putting her face mere inches from his. "How Wonder Woman killed—"

"Enough!" he barked, taking a step back from her. "This has nothing to do with trust. It's only a reminder of what can happen should the Justice League go rogue, nothing more."

"Is that all?" This time it wasn't Zatanna that asked him that, but Batgirl instead. Tilting his head towards her, he found the girl was fully facing him, a defiance in her posture he hadn't seen before. "Or is it so you always remember _her_?"

_Her?_ Batman wasn't sure what Batgirl meant. He didn't have long to think about that either. "Ever since you came back, you've done things to make me into her, the future me," she pressed, clarifying just who "her" was. "You made the Martian teach me how to speak and then you locked me away in this cave so that I wouldn't get hurt, like you were trying to protect _her._"

She thought that...he wanted to...Batman couldn't keep his thoughts straight. The accusations were like a sledgehammer being beaten into his skull. Did Batgirl...no, did Cassandra think he was trying to turn her into her future self?

Apparently, the silence he was responding with only enraged the girl. "Do not pretend you don't know what I'm talking about!" she shouted at him, her hands shooting up to her mask so that she could rip it off, revealing the very angry features of her face. "The video you made was stopped on her! As if you paused it there so you could look at her whenever you wanted!"

Now that wasn't true. The last time he had looked upon the footage was when he showed it to J'onn. He had then taken the flash drive out and locked it up. It would seem the file had remained at that moment in time.

"Bruce," Zatanna then said, her voice quiet in comparison to Cassandra's. "I think you better explain yourself before you make things any worse."

He was getting double-teamed. He could see it between the anger-filled Cassandra and the eerily-calm Zatanna. It was surprisingly effective. However, their combined force was making him want to show them just what their efforts would amount to. He would not be coerced, not when his intentions were for their well-being.

He steeled his features, his hands balling into tight fists. The leather of his gloves crinkled from the pressure being placed onto them. Every part of his being was ready to power past the two.

And then he didn't.

His fingers relaxed as his fist loosened. Eyes glancing from woman to woman, he fought back his most base urge. On the right was Zatanna, one of the few people he admitted to trusting. To his left, the girl he had taken under his wing and they had become the closest thing to family he would ever have.

If he couldn't trust these two with this secret, who could he?

"What do you want to know?" he acquiesced.

"I want to know why you want to turn me into that...that...future me," Cassandra was quick to demand.

Batman gazed at her sadly. "Whoever said I wanted you to be her?"

She scowled at him. "Do you want me to repeat myself? It's how you made the Martian mess with my mind and then—"

"As I recall," Batman interrupted her, "I gave you the choice to use J'onn. All I did was offer it to you and you were the one that chose him."

Cassandra paused if only to try and find something about that to be angry about. "But you never would have suggested it had you not gone to the future," she retorted.

"Perhaps you're right about that. Regardless, the choice was yours. As far as locking you away, I did that for your protection."

"So that Superman wouldn't kill me," she shot back mockingly.

He leveled her with a stern look. "So that some punk with a gun didn't get a lucky shot at you. In case you're forgetting, you damn near forgot how to fight once J'onn rearranged your mind."

"I didn't forget! I just couldn't fight like I used to!"

"You were a better fighter than me." At this, he noticed Zatanna give him an incredulous look. "And then I was wiping the floor with your face. It took seconds to put you down when it would take much, much longer. In fact, you won just as often as you lost."

He could see Cassandra readying herself to retort. Whatever she said, it was clear it would go along with that tangent and that wasn't getting them anywhere. "Whatever you may think of me, know that the last thing I want is for any harm to come to you."

"Unlike the future me?"

Zatanna took a step closer so that she came between them. She placed a hand on Cassandra's shoulder to get her attention. "I have to agree with...Batman on this one. If he felt like you needed to be off the streets, then he had a good reason for it."

That wasn't something Cassandra wanted to hear as she blew up. "Because he wanted to make up for his mistake with her! Because he wants a do-over!"

The magician shook her head. "When I first helped him with Gotham, he didn't let me out onto the streets either. That was for the best too because I didn't have my magical powers at the time. It sucked that I couldn't be more helpful, but it was for the best."

"You're siding with him now?" she asked incredulously

"Only on this one point. You should have heard him with the other vigilantes, the Network, or whatever they call themselves. I'm pretty certain he told all of them at one point to quit. Probably multiple times. If anything, he's consistent on this."

"But that doesn't change what he's done. What he's trying to do."

"And that's making you into who I met in the future?" Batman questioned rhetorically. "If anything, that's the last thing I want."

Both women looked to him then. "That...version of you. That was a woman created by circumstances out of her control. That was a world without me to guide her. The fact that we're here right now means she will _never_ come into being...and I'm okay with that."

He saw a questioning look coming from Zatanna and Cassandra seemed to have gone silent at his words. "According to that history, I was dead and gone. I shouldn't be here, but I am. The fact that I am means that future cannot happen—and I will see to it that it never does. I don't want you to become that women, or anyone you think I want you to be."

"Then why all of these changes?" she spoke softly.

Batman took in a deep breath, held it, then slowly released it. "Because it's what any parent would do for their child."

Again, Cassandra fell silent. It seemed, for now, this part of the conversation was over. Switching his attention to Zatanna, he then said, "As for the trust between us, this was never about that."

"Then why keep something like this away from everyone? Don't you think everyone should know?" she pressed.

"If that future doesn't come to pass, then why concern everyone with it?" he replied. "The only time it would be relevant is if that timeline begins. The world was being the Justice League when it went onto that darker path, not realizing what they would become until it was too late. That file," he pointed at the flash drive in her hand, "would be more useful as proof that even the greatest of heroes can do bad things."

The dark-haired woman was quiet for a moment. "Then you haven't shown this to anyone else?"

Well…"J'onn has seen it," he admitted.

"Why him? Why not, I don't know, someone you've known since you were a kid!"

"We weren't kids when we met."

"Close enough!"

Batman shook his head. "If push came to shove, I know that if the League went rogue, you would do the right thing. I have no doubt about that. As for J'onn, he defected in that timeline. At the very least, I've made sure that there's one member of the Justice League that won't automatically go down the wrong path."

He could see Zatanna considering his words. At the very least, she would come around to his line of thinking eventually.

"You say you're trying to protect me." Batman turned his head to look at Cassandra once more. Clearly she wasn't done with her own topic. "So that I won't get hurt, or end up like...her."

He nodded. "That's right."

"So why does that not apply to you?"

He raised an eyebrow at that, though he didn't verbally respond. This prompted the girl to continue, "Ever since we returned to Gotham, you put yourself into dangerous situations, like when we went after the Penguin. You should have waited for me and Zatanna to finish with his guards. I know you would have made me wait if I had been hurt like you were."

Batman narrowed his eyes. "I'm fine," he growled.

Cassandra's became ablaze with anger. "You're still recovering! I can see it when you move! I may not be the fighter I was, but I'm getting there, and I can read you better than ever! I know you're not completely well."

"I'm just getting back into form, that's all," he retorted. Whatever impasse they had been in, it was finished as far as he was concerned. Turning away, he marched out of the alcove, heading back towards the super computer, and then towards the turnstile in which his car was parked. Behind him he could hear one set of footsteps. At the very least, Zatanna was following him in her high-heels. If Cassandra was giving chase, then she was moving silently. "Where do you think you're going?" he heard the magician demand, confirming at least one of his pursuers.

Batman stopped suddenly and spun around, seeing both women were hot on his heels. "Out," he replied succinctly. "We've taken this conversation as far as it can go."

"No, we haven't," Zana shot back as she came to a stop before him, Cassandra stopping a moment later. "Cassandra has real concerns that need to be addressed."

"I'll say this only once more: I'm fine. I don't need babysitters."

The dark-haired woman's face hardened. "I beg to differ. If what happened to you happened to anyone else, you would sideline them faster than the Flash. Why shouldn't we do the same for you?"

Batman returned the look. "Back. Off. If you two really need something to do, learn something from that prisoner of yours. In the meantime, I'm heading out. There's too much left to do and the night is still young."

Spinning back around, he stormed towards his car. "Don't think you can run from this, Bruce!" he heard Zatanna shout after him.

He didn't stop his stride, even as he hopped back into his car, shutting the canopy a moment later. The engine revved back to life and he was taking off down the tunnels. Question him all you wanted about his motives, or his tactics, but he knew better than anyone what was going on with his body. To be second-guessed like that left him seething. He understood such concern when he was recovering and going through physical therapy, but that had been long ago.

Both of them needed to mind their own business. He was _fine._ Couldn't they see that?

* * *

It had been some time since he had physically seen Barbara, but Nightwing felt it was long overdue to see the woman behind Oracle. It didn't hurt that he was still amped as hell, what with what went down at the port.

That whole thing had been crazy, but thanks to that mess at City Hall, the Network, he felt, had been ready to fight a two front battle. There was also some pride that he had been able to face and beat a bunch of highly-trained ninjas with his hand-to-hand combat skills. There was no room in his mind that would allow for the possibility that they might have been the bottom of the barrel rank because damn it, they had kicked some ass.

He would let doubts hit him later.

For the time being, it was all about the gloating.

"I think everyone was on fire tonight. No one was holding back," the young man was explaining, his masked removed for no other reason than he felt like taking it off. "Both sides were so focused on one other, it was like shooting fish in a barrel. Wham, bam, thank you ma'am, and then on to the next ones. I think the girls are starting to come into their own here too, especially Spoiler. I think she really get used to the teamwork aspect with Red Robin."

He had been going on for a while. Something about what he just said sounded familiar; he was probably repeating himself at this point. Barbara, bless her patient heart, seemed to let him ramble on, all the while one hand remained at her keyboard, slowly typing on it while she sporadically checked the monitors. The woman was always good at multitasking.

"Uh huh. Mmm. Ah. Uh huh." That was what consistently came out of the red-haired woman's mouth as she gazed at him fondly. Eventually, she managed to get in, "What about that ship that was docked there? How'd that crane fall into it?"

Finally stopping, Dick took a moment to think about it. "There was an explosion, I remember that...oh, right! Bane has a freaking helicopter and when that thing came in, it started shooting up everything. I think Black Canary used her Canary Cry right before the crane fell. Maybe it was a combination of that?"

"Well, whatever caused it, I think it was a good thing," Barbara commented. "I found out that ship comes from Santa Prisca. I highly doubt it's a coincidence we found Santa Priscan mercenaries fighting Demon's Fang ninjas there. It had to be a base of operations for Bane."

"Not anymore," Nightwing smirked for a moment before dropping it slightly. "We didn't get Bane, though. I never thought a guy that big could disappear so quickly. He makes noise with every step he takes. You have to wonder how we missed him."

"Or how the Demon's Fang missed him," Barbara added.

Good point. However, there was one other thing that needed to be said. "I know you were trying to watch the whole thing. Tell me, did you see Batman at any point?" the vigilante asked, his voice taking on a serious tone.

"I'd have to go through the footage again, but I don't recall seeing him," the hacker remarked.

Nodding his head, Dick said, "No one else mentioned seeing him. I don't think he was there. That means we were able to hold our own without him." A genuine smile curled his lips, a feeling of accomplishing welling inside of him.

That statement alone made him feel on Cloud Nine. The signs were there; they could hold their own without the man that inspired them. Maybe one day they wouldn't need him to handle every crisis that came to this city. Perhaps, they could fight the next threat without his help.

One day.

But, speaking about the Dark Knight. "Where was he, though? You would think he would have been there for this. What was he doing?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. The only thing we can be sure of is that he was doing something, something that either kept him from being at the port, or it made him fashionably late," Barbara answered, pushing herself up in her wheelchair. That was a sight she was trying to make herself more comfortable that he had learned over time.

"Whatever," he ended up saying, shaking his head. "So what have you been up to? You know, when not giving us the scoop on a ninja attack."

"Like you need to ask." Now Barbara was turning herself back to her monitors, as if she was about to resume a task that she postponed so that she could listen to him preen. "I'm making myself a nice little coffin with which to stick Cobblepot into. I've managed to find out his connections, from arms dealers in Eastern Europe, drug cartels from South America, and Chinese businessmen. I'm figuring out every single nook and cranny of his operation, his dealings with fine folks like El Penitente and the Kali Corporation to the Triads themselves. I just need a little more and I'll have him!"

As she had spoke, Dick had noticed how rushed her words had become, as if she was trying to get them all out at once. The need to take down Cobblepot was beginning...no, it was already taking over her. Yeah, he could understand why what with what that man did to her. It didn't change the fact the vigilante was worrying about how it was affecting the hacker.

But what could he say? Slow down? Take a break? That bastard kidnapped her when she was a kid and threatened to cut her up into pieces. If it was Tony Zucco instead, he would have been cheering her on to go after him. He understood all that.

And it didn't change the fact that he was worried that this would become an obsession, something that would cause harm to her in the end.

Even with the high of tonight's big fight, he found he was having trouble finding the best words he could say to her.

"When's the last time you had a break?" was what he ended up saying, trying to take the most indirect route he could because there was a part of him that felt uneasy taking the more direct one.

"Just had it," Barbara answered idly, and Dick resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

She meant she had multi-tasked through that "break."

"No, I mean done something other than Oracle business," he tried again as he grabbed the handles to her wheelchair. "You know what, let's do it right now. Anything in the freezer? Still have any of the good coffee I know you keep around here? Whatever you're looking for, it'll still be there later."

"Dick!" she protested when he pulled her away from her workstation, not waiting for her to give him consent. It was easier to do than you thought, what with her in a wheelchair and all. Having wheels on anything made it easier to move them.

"It'll just be for a bit. We really need to celebrate right now," the young man continued, deliberately ignoring her protests. "You've been working so hard, you need a treat. We both do. So where's the good stuff hiding?"

Sometimes taking the indirect route was more trouble than it seemed, especially when you were trying to avoid the big elephant in the room that was only going to continue growing bigger as it was danced around.

Then again, it's what they were doing this whole time, dancing around the elephant that was Bane. No sense changing up the formula now, right? Besides, there was one important thing that really needed to be discussed and he wanted her full attention than some half-assed one.

The future of the Network never looked brighter and they needed to keep it polished so that when the day came when Batman was no longer able to continue the good fight, they would be there to not only pick up where he left off, but be a true successor to his legacy.

That way, Gotham would be able to rest easy for good.


	18. Former Flame Dust Up

_It was with a gargled groan that Bruce came to. Immediately he squeezed his already closed eyes tighter._

_The first thing he was assaulted with was the incredible discomfort in his back. It felt as if he had been laying in place for months, maybe years. There was this incredible soreness that he never knew was possible. While his back was a primary source, there were other places throughout his body that felt the same way. They were randomly scattered, from his legs, to his arms, and torso. There was not one place that wasn't stiff._

_Bruce took a deep breath and held it. Released it. Took another one. Release. He steadied his breathing, using his mind to overcome what his body was clearly distressed about. He pushed back the uncomfortable signals his body was telling him until he could reasonably ignored his discomfort._

_Then he opened his eyes._

_The lighting, such as it was, stabbed at his eyes, and Bruce immediately shut them. Waiting a moment, he then began the painstakingly slow process of opening them, allowing his eyes to slowly adjust to what he came to find out was dim lighting. His eyes must have been completely dilated for this level of lighting to affect him so._

_Eventually, his surroundings came into focus and Bruce found himself frowning. The room was devoid of fixtures, be it furniture or decor. He was lying on some sort of table, though the surface told him it was of some kind of smooth stone. In fact, the entire room was made of stone, the masonry work belonging to an era long since forgotten._

_He had been here before._

_While it had been in a completely different time, Bruce recognized the ancient architecture of the Tower of Fate. He had spent some time in it against his will and his compulsion for analyzing his surroundings had demanded that he familiarize himself with its layout. That was the reason why he didn't immediately throw himself off the stone table he laid on._

_Turning his head to one side, he found Cassandra, dressed in her Batgirl armor sans mask, seated in a rather uncomfortable-looking stone chair. The girl had managed to fall asleep in spite of this, her shoulders slumped and her head hanging forward as her chest slowly rose and sank with every breath._

_That was when a bright light began to shine in the corner of his eye. Turning his head back and tilting it upward so that he could look down his body towards the wall in front of him_—_subsequently discovering the only thing covering him was a blanket from his waist down_—_he spotted a doorway, one that was blocked off by stone. It was as if someone had made the framework, then walled it off on second thought._

_However, within the stone frame, a swirling, golden light appeared, becoming pure white at its center. Two silhouettes appeared then, black against the bright backdrop, and then slowly took form._

_They were both women based off of the curvature of their bodies. It took awhile before he began to make out details of them, but eventually he recognized Zatanna, her top hat in place and fishnet stockings hugging her legs. The other woman at her side he didn't recognize. She was older than Zatanna and seemed to prefer the dress of a soothsayer._

"_You really need to tell me how you met this guy," Zatanna was saying to her companion, an annoyed tone in her voice. "I really doubt a high-stakes poker game is the real story."_

"_Believe what you want to," the other woman intoned blandly, though there was an uptick of the corner of her mouth, belying her amusement._

_Zana threw an arm out towards the swirling portal they had just exited, which was slowly fading back into the solid stone masonry. "Are we even talking about the same guy? I mean, he doesn't look like he even knows what a full house is! I don't think he's even left this tower since he got here!"_

"_And where do you think we held that game?"_

_The younger woman pushed, eyes blinking owlishly. "You can't be serious."_

"_I am always serious."_

"_Says the Lucky Charms eater."_

_As entertaining as this conversation was, Bruce felt it was best to let these ladies know that he was wide awake and hearing everything. These two obviously had a history together, one which cause them to bicker for hours on end. He would know, Zatanna was a part of the pair._

_However, Zana had turned her head away from her friend and froze upon seeing the dark-haired man looking at her. It was like looking at a deer in the headlights, which caused the other woman to stop and look to him. "You are awake," she succinctly observed._

"_Glaarryyshhh," Bruce replied before he began coughing raggedly. Immediately, he moved his arms so that he could use them to prop himself up, so that he could better clear his throat._

_That proved to be a big mistake._

_The moment he raised his upper body, a searing pain tore through his back, causing him to hiss as his face twisted from the pain._

_Immediately, Zatanna was at his side, pressing a hand to his chest as she urged him to lay back down. "Lay down, Bruce. You're okay. Everything is okay," she said soothingly._

_No, something was not okay. Why the hell was his back in so much pain? Still, he laid back down, focusing on his breathing so that he could get over this new pain._

_He was pretty sure it was going to take him a lot longer to do so._

_It was the other woman that began speaking to him. "You have suffered a serious injury, Batman. Your body is still recovering from it."_

"_Whhaaaa?" he croaked out before he started coughing again. This time he was clearing his throat, unlike the first time. The back of his throat felt dry and putrid, his mouth a veritable desert. Stopping, he tried again. "What are you talking about?" Again, his voice was hoarse, but at least he was making sense._

"_Just a second," Zatanna responded before one of her hands disappeared beneath the table. When it returned, there was a cup of water, a silly straw sticking of it. "Sip," she commanded as she held it to his mouth._

_Bruce immediately clamped his lips around the straw and sucked, water rushing into his mouth. He drained the cup, his mouth feeling refreshed, though with the lingering taste of dryness. "That wasn't a sip," the dark-haired woman observed._

_Bruce didn't respond, merely looking from the magician to her friend, who stood on the other side of the table. That was when he noticed an IV line going into his arm, a bag of a milky white fluid being pumped in. That must have been some sort of nutrition._

_How long had he been out?_

_That was such a good question, he voiced it. "How long have I been out? What happened?"_

_The two women exchanged looks. "You don't remember?" Zatanna questioned warily._

_No he didn't. That's why he_—

Standing in the middle of the hallway, arms at his sides, was one of the biggest men the vigilante had ever seen. Black combat fatigues and leotard covered the man, revealing a chest of solid muscle.

_Bruce winced from the sudden memory. Focusing on it, more assaulted him._

By then, Bane's fist swung through the air, colliding with the frame and destroying it. The punch kept going, ripping into the wall and leaving a trail of destruction in its wake.

The moment Batman's back hit the glass, it shattered upon impact, sending the two flying out into night surrounded by glass shards.

And then something hit him against the back of his skull—Bane's fist perhaps—forcing his face to slam down on the ground, stars exploding in front of his eyes.

Suddenly, searing pain exploded throughout his back, going up and down his spine as his back was crushed down onto Bane's knee. There was a loud crack, followed by an inhuman scream roaring out of Batman's mouth. His entire body was on fire, from the top of his head to the toes of his feet.

"Broken."

_It came as a rush of jumbled images. The gist, however, was he had lost a fight to an incredibly powerful man, Bane. Suddenly he knew why his body was feeling the way it was, why his back exploded with pain the moment he moved it._

_Recovering from the rush of memories, he then looked to his long-time friend. "How long was I out?"_

"_Months," she replied succinctly. "I didn't hear about it for weeks due to...other obligations. That girl you took in had you holed up in some safe house of yours by the time I tracked you down. That was about two months after you fought this Bane guy." She then nodded to the other woman. "Madam Xanadu helped me out. She knew a doctor we could take you to, one that Cassandra was comfortable with."_

_Bruce raised an eyebrow. Though doctor was in his name, he doubted Doctor Fate had that sort of expertise._

"_I see the patient has awaken."_

_Bruce found his head snapping back towards the entrance. Hovering in the air was Fate himself, cape billowing as he faded into view. His voice was booming, much like it had been in the future, though there were a few differences in his wardrobe. They were small, minute things, but his critical eye saw them anyways._

"_Shhhhhh!" Zatanna hissed at him. "You'll wake the girl up."_

"_Have no fear, Mistress of Magic. The young one was in dire need of rest. I placed a sleeping spell on her the moment she sat down."_

_The dark-haired woman whipped her head around, studying Cassandra's sleeping form. "I'll be damned," she muttered. "How did I not see that?"_

"_It was very subtle," Xanadu told her. "It's what makes him a good poker player."_

"_Don't you mean sorcerer?"_

"_That too."_

"_Madam Xanadu," Fate addressed the older woman. "Since you bring it up, I must apologize. I will not be able to make the next game."_

"_I'll inform the others," Xanadu responded._

"_I swear to God, they're fucking with me," Zatanna muttered._

_Bruce cleared his throat, earning the attention of the room again. "What's the severity of my injuries?"_

_At this, Zana looked down, a worrying sign. It was Fate who answered him. "Multiple contusions throughout your body, healed lacerations, and a few cracked ribs. You also sustained severe damage to your spine."_

_Immediately, Bruce began focusing on his legs and feet. He urged them to move, finding that he could not. In fact, he wasn't sure he could feel them at all._

"_Bruce," Zatanna said then, causing him to look to her. Absently, she placed a hand on his thigh. "There's a possibility you won't be able to walk again."_

_That was earth-shattering news. Just hearing that should have caused his stomach to drop and his mind be overwhelmed. However, he could feel the pressure of Zatanna's hand on his leg. If the blanket had been a sheet, he might have been able to feel the heat from it as well. If he was indeed paralyzed from the waist down, there was no way he would be able to feel it._

"_As of now," Fate spoke again, interrupting his train of thought, "you have been placed in one of the healing rooms in the Tower of Fate. They have received little usage, but the magicks imbued are strong. Most are used for the recovery of a person's mystical energies, so this is a trail of the physical."_

"_If there's a way for you to have a full recovery, this is it," Zatanna summarized for him."_

"_That's why I was brought to the Tower of Fate?" the dark-haired man questioned._

"_Well, that, and someone was tailing you and Cassandra. This tower is outside the realm of space and time, so no one should be able to find you. This was the only place I've seen that girl relax since I met her."_

_Bruce laid his head back on the stone table, closing his eyes. If there was any place for him to recover, it was here._

When Batman opened his eyes, gone was the sight of Fate's Recovery Room. Instead it was the skyline of Gotham, cold and lifeless. At his feet was a gargoyle, reaching out from the edge of the building and hovering above the street below.

He had been here before, once with Zatanna. This perch was a perfect launch point, one he had used countless times in his patrol of Gotham. The last time he had been here, he hadn't jumped.

This time would be no different.

It seemed an entire lifetime ago that he had been fearless. He didn't second guess. In the heat of battle, he felt like his old self.

So why, when he stood at this point, did he hesitate?

The answer clearly was that he wasn't ready. And yet, he would come here over and over before it was all said and done until he finally gained the courage and jumped.

Unfortunately, doubt was clouding his mind. The source this time stemmed from his conversation with Cassandra and Zatanna in the Cave. While that had been an emotional roller-coaster, what really grated him was the questions of his health.

He was fine. It was not like the physical therapy he went through at the Tower of Fate, where taking a step had been a fight. He could walk, he could sit, he could fight.

And yet, if he was so fit, why did he not jump?

As much as he wanted to deny it, there was some truth to what Cassandra said. He wasn't one hundred percent. It would take more time before he was at full strength, but he was not one to sit around while his city suffered.

So here he was, out of the comforts of home and the constant shadowing from his allies. Well, make that two of the most important women in his life—his daughter and his oldest childhood friend.

He did not need them watching him over his shoulder. He wasn't some rookie, green and ill-prepared. He knew what his body could withstand; he knew how and when to strike to win a fight.

Stepping away from the edge, Batman began trudging to the other side of the roof. He was frustrating himself at this point. There would be other times to try leaping from this surprising obstacle.

For now, he'd return to familiar habits. Gotham needed protecting and that was what he was going to do.

* * *

It wasn't supposed to end this way. Sure, prey had fled, but no matter how far they ran, they died just like the rest.

The Phantasm limped through the parking garage. Bane was a challenge greater than it had thought. The timing for their attack had been excellent. Bane had just fled an attack at his base of operations and came right into a prime ambush point. He had breathed in the fear toxin laced in its smoke. Normally that was the beginning of the end for the fight.

Instead, Bane had fought back with greater intensity. The Phantasm had not expected that. In fact, it had to flee the scene before Bane had gotten his hands on it. It had seen the news feeds on what the masked man had done to Batman and there was no question he would do the same to it.

A new plan was needed. A direct confrontation was a losing proposition. Bane was at a low point and it had failed to eliminate him. No, a new strategy was needed. This foe needed to be struck down when he least expected it. No theatrics, no tactical ploys; the moment Bane let his guard down, the Phantasm would be there to stick its knife in his back.

That was the only plan that stood a chance at working.

For now, a return to its hideout for recovery was needed. No doubt Crane would have some experiment he was working on. Though Bane was the primary objective, there would be a time when he was not and the old ways could return. When that time came, more fear toxin would be needed. Perhaps an improved formula would be available then.

"Halt!"

The Phantasm froze. It was not alone. Straightening its posture, it slowly turned around, allowing its fear-inducing presence to be taken in.

What it found was a group of people. There were four men dressed in head-to-toe bodysuits, goggles placed where their eyes were. They formed a semi-circle behind a woman in a black bodysuit, though her face was exposed. Dark hair cascaded down one half of her face, hiding it from sight. A sharp eye focused on the Phantasm.

One look at the men and the killer knew these were the same people that had attacked Bane's headquarters. It recognized their uniforms from its observations of the battle. The woman was new. She took a step towards it, which caused its attention to be drawn to the gun holster wrapped around one of her thighs.

"I have not see you before," the woman spoke as she gave the Phantasm a once-over with her one visible eye, one of her hands resting on her hip. "You dress much like this city's protector. I have many questions."

This was not the first time the Phantasm had received such comparison. The first time it had been in Gotham, it had been compared to the Batman, which was alright with it. The more people suspected the vigilante, the better it could act in the shadows.

However…"I have no business with you. Begone," it warned.

The woman did not appeared deterred. "You speak to the daughter of the Demon. It is in your best interest to cooperate."

Releasing its smoke, a cloud began to rise from the Phantasm. "No, it is in your best interest to leave. This is your only chance."

The Demon's daughter narrowed her eye. "No, it is yours. If I must restrain you, then I will do so."

"You will fail."

The dark-haired woman didn't respond. Instead, she drew the hand she had resting on her hip back before swinging it out, throwing a small dark object through the air.

By then, the smoke had enveloped much of the Phantasm's body, save for its shoulders and head. It watched the object fly through the air, but then begin to fall to the floor. The moment it his the cement, a bright flash erupted, shocking the killer.

An instant later and a loud _BANG! _rang out. A flashbang grenade! The Phantasm shut its eyes as the blinding flash burned its eyes, its lens being unable to completely shield them from the light. It was further stunned by the ear-splitting blast that burrowed into its ears, causing it to cringe.

And then something rammed into its face. It was narrow and long—the bottom of a foot. The force of the blow sent the Phantasm flying backwards, exiting out its thick smoke cloud until it landed on its back on the ground.

The killer shook its head, attempting to shake off the daze it had been in. Looking to the dissipating cloud, the dark-haired woman emerged, seeming unaffected by the fear toxin within. Eyeing her chest, the Phantasm noticed a distinct lack of breathing; she must have been holding her breath, much like Strange had.

There was rapid movement around it. Jerking its head from one side to another, the Phantasm saw the four men with the woman were running, each one stopping at a predetermined spot. The moment one positioned themselves behind the killer, it realized these men had formed a large circle, no doubt to surround it and cut it down from all sides.

"Do not worry about my men," the woman spoke then, the shadow phantom returning its attention to her. "They will not strike you unless ordered. They are to insure you do not flee. Now let us try this again: I have a few questions and you will answer them. Failure to do so will not end well for you."

The Phantasm began climbing back onto its feet. "I will not be threatened," it hissed.

It then pointed its bladed hand at its foe and fired it, the blade racing towards its target. Instantly, the woman dodged to aside, allowing the blade to pass by harmlessly. The blade, however, had a different target, that being the man standing far behind her.

Unfortunately, the man pulled out a sword from behind its back and parried the blade the moment it reached him, sending the blade down into the floor. By then, the woman had taken off running towards it, leaping at the last moment to swing a kick at its head.

Shooting an arm up, the Phantasm blocked the kick, the force of the blow vibrating up and down its forearm. Unfortunately, it lost its balance, the killer stumbling back a step as it tried to regain its footing. At the same time, it began retracting its blade hand, its sharp edge scraping against the cement as it was dislodged from it.

However, the woman landed on one foot during this time, drawing her extended leg back only to lash back out with it. Her foot rammed right into its chest, the force of the blow sending it flying backwards until it once again crashed on its back on the ground. It skidded across the cement until it came to a stop perhaps a few feet from one of the woman's men. Surprisingly, he did not make a move to attack it.

By then, the blade hand had returned, connecting fully with its arm. Returning its attention to the woman, he found her hovering in midair, one leg raised up and bent at the knee, ready to stomp down on it.

Immediately, it retaliated, bring its blade hand across its body and then swing it back out, perfectly timed to strike the woman as her foot descended down. It fully intended on slicing the woman's foot off of its leg with the strike.

However, this woman was more adept than it had expected. Somehow, she adjusted her stomping motion in mid-strike, the bottom of her foot actually landing right on top of the flat side of the blade hand. Fluidly, she extended her bent leg, causing her to rise up into the air. Springing off the swinging blade, she went into a back flip, landing a short distance away on both feet, a bemused smile on her face.

She was good and she knew it. Bringing its bladed hand back, the Phantasm climbed back onto its feet. "Who are you?" it questioned.

"I have already told you, dark one," she replied. "I am Talia, the daughter of the Demon. Now you will answer my questions. I am looking for—"

"And I have told you I will not answer."

For once, a scowl appeared on the dark-haired woman's face. In a flash, she grabbed the handle of her gun and pulled it out of its holster, aiming it at it. "I am through playing games with you."

Immediately, the Phantasm held its gloved hand up. A burst of smoke fired out from its palm, forming a cloud between them. It then spun to its left, just before a gunshot rang out. A bullet struck a wall somewhere, but the Phantasm did not pause to look. Instead it silently glided around the smoke cloud until it found its foe, the woman standing before the cloud as she concentrated on it.

It then lunged at this Talia, swinging its bladed hand at her. As expected, the woman caught sight of its movement out of the corner of her eye and jerked around to aim its gun at it.

Anticipating this, its bladed hand struck the gun, cleanly slicing through it and causing the weapon to fall apart in Talia's hand. Before she could respond, the Phantasm had drawn a fist back and threw it, slamming it into her face. This time, it was Talia who went flying backwards, falling to the floor in a heap.

That was when the Phantasm noticed movement out of the corner of its eye. Locating it, it saw Talia's men moving towards it, those who had not drawn weapons were doing so. It seemed they were done observing.

How expected.

* * *

He had heard the bang echoing throughout the night. Considering how quiet the city had been until then, the sound was immediately attention-getting.

Transversing the skyscrapers, Batman eventually found a parking garage, where smoke seemed to seep from a corner of the structure. Taking up a vantage point, he found the source, that of a group of men fighting each other.

The Dark Knight easily recognized the Demon's Fang. There was four of them, each one posting themselves throughout the garage level they were on. There were two people fighting, one that was blowing out smoke. The other gave him pause.

A frown was on Batman's face. What was Talia doing here? Though she looked lovely as ever, the only reason she left her father's side was when he sent her out on assignment. With the number of men with her, it was clear they had an agenda. That alone did not bode well.

Talia was currently engaged in hand-to-hand combat with another combatant, the smoke making it difficult to get a read on who it was. Talia had a gun in her hand and had just fired a shot into the cloud, slowly edging towards it as she tried to locate her foe.

And then something dark darted out from the cloud. There was a flash of light reflecting off of a metal surface and Talia jerked away, her gun missing from her hand. As Talia fell out of sight, Batman got a good look at who she was fighting.

He saw the dark outfit, the grey hood and cape. The bladed hand was held in clear view. The vigilante's stomach dropped.

_Andrea…_

That was when the four assassins moved in, surrounding Andrea as they cut her off from taking another shot at Talia. Batman had no doubt they were trying to protect Ra's daughter, but as a couple of them removed swords, his stomach churned. Those men weren't taking defensive stances; they were offensive.

Instinctively, Batman leaped from his perch, his electrified gauntlet grabbing onto his cape so that it went into glider mode. He soared through the air rapidly, the wind battering his body as he rushed towards the open space between each parking level.

Letting go of his cape with one hand, it shot down to his belt, where he pulled out his grapple. Pointing it at the rightmost assassin, he fired it, the cable trailing behind the grapple claw. The grapple claw collided with the sword arm of the targeted assassin, clamping down on the forearm, much to the man's surprise.

Leaning backwards, Batman swung his legs forward as he released his cape, feeling it go limp behind him. His momentum carried him through the opening, where his feet slammed into the face of another assassin, knocking him clear off of his feet. Both men went tumbling to the floor; though whereas the assassin crashed head first onto the cement ground, Batman went into a roll in midair, his back being the first part of him to touch down. Due to his roll, he ended up on his feet, turning to face the assassin that was still attached to his grapple claw.

Pulling back on the grapple gun so that the cable went taut, the Dark Knight raised his free hand up over his head before he swung it down. His hand landed on top of the cable and bent its taut line. The caused the assassin to lunged towards him, though completely out of his control.

Releasing hold on his grapple gun, allowing it to fall to the floor, Batman balled his newly-empty hand into a fist and threw it, ramming it right into the stumbling assassin's face. The force of the blow sent the man flying backwards, where he ended up crashing into one of the pillars holding up the garage's upper level. The man collapsed in a heap at the base of the pillar.

"Beloved! No!" he heard Talia cry out, causing the dark-clad vigilante to snap his head to his right. Lying on the ground on her side, her arms propping up her upper body so that she could look right at him, he soon discovered the reason for her shout. Twisting his head further so that he could look behind him, he saw one of the two remaining assassins charging at him, swinging his sword.

In an instant, Batman shot his arm up, the edge of the sword striking against his forearm just between the triangle blades. "Traitor!" the assassin barked at him, pressing his blade harder against the vigilante's arm.

Movement out of the corner of his eye alerted him to the fact that this wouldn't be a one-on-one fight. Tilting his head as far as he would allow in the other direction, he raised his other arm up just in time for the last assassin to slice his sword at him, the blade colliding with his triangle-bladed forearm as well.

That was when the first assassin drew his sword back, arching it high to his head and then downward, swinging a side slash at the vigilante. In response, Batman rotated his elbow so that his raised fist was now pointed downward, just in time to block the side slashing sword.

The second assassin then pulled his sword back then, which meant he was going in for another strike. This time, Batman pulled away from the first assassin, pivoting on one foot as he swung his other foot off the floor. The toe of his boot collided with the side of the assassin, his sidekick stunning the man even as he held his sword above his head. Bringing his leg down, Batman continued to spin so that he could face his previous foe, holding his left arm horizontally across his face. As expected, he felt the incoming sword strike hit his arm, successfully blocked.

This time, however, he jerked his horizontally-held arm up until it stood vertically. This trapped the sword between two of his angled triangle blades and allowed him to force it out to his side. Raising a foot up, he then stomped it down on his foe's foot, causing the man to yelp. He quickly followed up that hit by sending a punch right for the assassin's throat, crushing the larynx, which caused his opponent to gasp, then gag.

With the man stunned, Batman quickly moved that same hand until his fingers grabbed onto the back of the man's head. Pulling it forward and down, the vigilante raised his right leg up, just in time for his knee to ram into the man's face, knocking him out before he stumbled backwards and collapsed to the floor.

By the time he brought his leg down, the dark-clad man lunged to one side, spinning his body as he did so. His instincts were on the money as the last standing assassin had tried to slice him, the man swinging his sword downward from over his head, the edge of the blade striking the floor. As he continued his spin, Batman pulled out a bat-shaped shuriken and sent it flying at the man's head, where it struck him against the temple. Instantly, the assassin's head jerked back from the blow before he collapsed into a heap.

Which just left him, Talia, and Andrea staring at each other.

Andrea stared at him from beneath her skull-like mask. "You," she hissed in that unnaturally deep, hollow voice, taking a step away. Immediately, she began releasing her smoke, the cloud beginning to envelop her—her attempt at escape.

In an instant, Batman had a bola in hand, his hand rotating over and over as it began to spin in a circle. He then threw the whirling bola, watching as it closed the distance between the two and struck Andrea's legs, wrapping around them and pinning them together. There was a cry of surprise from Andrea's distorted voice as she fell to the floor, the smoke cloud around her suddenly stopping in its growth, slowly starting to dissipate.

"No, not this time," Batman said as he began striding towards his former flame. "You're going to jail."

Even as the smoke faded, revealing more of Andrea's darkly-garbed form, he saw her bring her bladed hand down and cut the bola lines, severing them. "I told you once before, you are interfering where you are not needed."

Batman came to a stop before her even as she stood up to face him. "Any time you're killing is exactly where I'm needed. Tonight is the last night you take another life."

Andrea didn't respond to him. She stared at him for all of a moment before she lashed out, slicing at him with the blade on her right hand. Much like Talia's men's swords, he blocked it with his triangle blades, his raised forearm absorbing the blow.

Immediately, Andrea drew her blade back, only to strike with it again. Batman blocked this as well, only with his other arm, the ringing of clashing metal filling the parking garage. He had to take a step back this time, however. The force she had used had drawn her closer to him and in order to avoid her suddenly lunging at him caused him to back away.

Over and over, she struck, coming at every angle she could. Every time he blocked it, trading out his arms for each strike. He continued to backpedal, which caused Andrea to give chase, matching each step he took with one of her own.

Then out of nowhere, she pivoted on one foot even as she brought her other one up. Fast as lightning, she lashed out with her raised foot, ramming it into his stomach. Batman grunted from the blow, stumbling back a couple steps in response as he clutched at his abdomen with one arm.

Andrea held her ground this time though. Instead of continuing her assault, she raised a gloved hand up and towards the vigilante. A rush of smoke poured out, blowing all over the Dark Knight.

Immediately, he lunged forward, exploding out of the cloud of smoke. With his arms crossed in front of him, he led with them as he emerged from the smoke cloud, colliding with Andrea, his forearms hitting her against the chest. His momentum pushed his opponent backwards, her turn to stumble backwards. Her left hand grabbed onto his shoulder to steady herself even as she regained her balance and stopped her backpedaling.

And yet, her head leaned back, as if she were trying to stay as far away from him as possible. Both of her arms were suddenly pressed on top of his, sliding down until they reached the crux of his elbows. With surprising strength, she shoved his arms down, then promptly threw her head forward, headbutting him as forehead collided with forehead.

A short cry escaped Batman's lips, his face grimacing from the unexpected blow. There was a flash of metal then. With her blade hand crossed over her chest due to her using it to push down his arms, she then sliced outwards with it. The sudden movement was the only warning he received, which the vigilante immediately leaned back as far as he could.

To avoid a fatal strike, he succeeded. However, he felt the edge of the blade strike the side of his face, just where his mask gave way to skin. His cowl was cut from edge to just below his ear, the sharp edge exiting there. A stinging sensation stretched across his cheek, informing the dark-clad man that he had been cut.

Immediately, Batman moved to put some distance between him and Andrea. However, the woman wasn't going to allow him to do so as she took a step after him. She had every intention to press her advantage.

Except, she was intercepted. Out of nowhere, Talia came sailing through the air, one leg extended, leading her flying kick. Her foot slammed into the side of Andrea's masked face, causing her to stumble to one side. Once she regained her balance, Andrea drew back, holding her blade hand up by her head, her free hand low and in front of her.

Talia did not seem interested in her though. Instead, she spun to face Batman, her face pouring with concern. "Beloved, are you alright?" she immediately asked, her hands reaching out to him.

That was uncharacteristic for her. Growing up in the Demon's Fang, Talia knew better than to leave her back unguarded when an enemy was around; yet, here she was doing it to Andrea. Perhaps it was because Batman had his eyes on their opponent and she trusted him to alert her to an attack. Her concern was not needed here, however.

"I'm fine," he told her as he pulled his head away from her reaching hands. He even moved his own hands to grab her wrists to stop her, but she immediately wrenched them out of his grasp.

"Let me see your face," she ordered even as her hand pressed down on either side of his head. Before he could stop her, she cleanly pulled off his damaged mask, Bruce's sweaty face and bleeding cheek emerging.

The world stopped for the dark-haired man. Somehow, someway, Talia had removed his mask without setting off any of the countermeasures his suit had to prevent such an action. It was as if they were deactivated, which left him standing there, wide eyes as he looked to Andrea.

From where he stood, he could see her bladed hand trembling. Her shoulders, broadened by her costume, were slumping. "It can't be," she spoke out, her surprise evident even in her altered voice. "Bruce?"

Talia had turned her head to look at Andrea, even though her hands were pressed against the sides of Bruce's face. Immediately, he reached up and pulled the dark-haired woman's hands away from him, stepping forward to put himself between both women. "Andrea," he replied with certainty. This caused her to flinch from the use of her name.

"I don't know what's brought you back to Gotham," he continued, taking another step towards her. "But you have to stop killing. _I_ need you to stop. Look at what it's done to—"

"Come no further!" she cried out even as smoke began billowing up from behind her. She retreated backwards, disappearing into the smoke cloud, vanishing before his eyes like she had done so many times before. However, Bruce stopped in his tracks, staring at the thick cloud before it began to dissipate, taking away his former flame.

* * *

It had to leave, it had to go, it had to...had to…

It was hard to breathe. Every breath was short, gasping, a sign of hyperventilation that it was familiar with, especially from those it targeted. It was almost surreal how now it was the one…

_Off! It had to come off!_

Now caring whether she was in a safe place or not, Andrea tore off the mask of the Phantasm, almost giving in to the desire to scream out her anguish.

All this time, it had been him. _Him_. The one person that she swore to herself that she would never hurt again was the man who was trying to stand in her way, to arrest her, and have her answer for her crimes.

The memories of facing off with the Batman, from the first rooftop confrontation, to the park where she had fought hand-to-hand with him, to that helicopter ride that ended inside the Sionis Steel Mill, all of those times she had been fighting..._Bruce_…

So vividly the memory came, her above the Dark Knight, stabbing down with her bladed hand at his face, frustrated with the interference and the fact that he would not give in. And now, thanks to that other woman, she had seen the true face of the Batman.

This...it...everything had changed.

Andrea wanted to vomit. This was not how she had wanted this to go. The one man whom she had hurt so much, who she wanted nothing but the best for, and here she was trying to hurt him once more. Even now, she could see his face with the shellacked hair and that cut that she herself had put on his face. And the blood…

Shaking her head, the red-haired woman forcefully tried to remind herself that that was normal for facial wounds. When injured there, blood had a habit of pouring out easier there than any other part of the body. However, it was superficial; the blood would have been clotting immediately so there was no danger. Also, last she checked, Bruce wasn't anemic either. He would live…

She had never thought she would ever use those words in reference to the man she had loved once...still loved.

But...wait. He was Batman, but only months earlier he had been thrown into the streets by Bane himself. The injuries had been serious; months, if not years, would be needed to heal from those. He should _still_ be healing. So how was he back and in good condition? Not that she didn't want Bruce healthy, but it was not in the plan to have to face him so soon, like this.

Her eyes flashed. She needed to leave Gotham again. She needed to go, _now_, because now that all pretenses of ignorance were gone, how long would it take for him to track her down once more? To make good on his words to bring her to justice? She knew him; there was little that would stop him once he put his mind to something.

Strange would have to wait for another time. Unless he was stupid enough to leave Gotham, he would be beyond her reach for the time being. If she wanted to remain safe, she would have to leave the city tonight.

This time, there would be no promises to return, to finish unfinished business. At least, not until she could figure out how this new knowledge fit into her dark world. Until then, she would pay one more visit to Crane to finalize a continuous supply of fear toxin—the only thing that allowed her to turn a blind eye to his short attempt to join the False Face Society—gather her things, and then make good her escape.

Or perhaps she should leave those possessions behind? Now that Bruce knew she was here, it would be easy for him to head her off at the suite she was renting.

Regardless of what she choose to do, she had to make the decision now and live with the consequences.

Something that she once again would be doing alone.

* * *

Batman's entrance into Talia and Andrea's fight is based off of the trailer for Arkham City, where he ambushes a unit of Tyger soldiers. I've been wanting to use that scene for a while now and finally found the right place for it.


	19. Son Of The Bat

Bruce shoved his cowl back on, ignoring the constant sting to his check. He had seen the gash to the left side of the mouth hole, along with the drips of blood. Considering the cut wasn't gushing with blood, he figured he would be alright.

"Let me see," Talia demanded from behind him, the dark-haired woman gliding around him as she came to stand in front of him, her hands once again reaching for his face. "We need to properly treat your wound."

What was it with women worrying over his health lately? Batman's face hardened as he warded off Talia's hands. "I'm fine," he grunted, even going so far as to take a step back from her.

This did nothing to erase the amusement wafting off Ra's daughter. "You never were one to allow others to care for you. I am glad to see you have not changed, Beloved."

Reminders of their time together assaulted the vigilante's mind, ones he quickly squashed as he questioned, "What are you doing out here, Talia? What's Ra's planning?"

Talia's good humor evaporated as she tilted her head back haughtily. "I am not doing my father's bidding, Beloved. I am in search of someone important to me and was seeking them out when I came across the latest pretender to your mantle."

It seemed Talia was taking offense to the similarities between his and Andrea's appearances. Why she should care about that, he didn't know nor cared to know.

"Though I do find it curious a woman would be dressing like you."

That caused Batman to raise an eyebrow beneath his mask. "What makes you think that was a woman?"

A small smile appeared on her face. "It has been a long time since you have seen me fight, it seems. I know when I'm fighting a man or woman, regardless of the measures they take to hide that fact."

Trust Talia to recognize a person's gender during a fight. He had forgotten just how adept she was since she rarely moved without Ra's blessing. The only time he was aware of her going off-script was during her plot to overthrow her father, which failed in the ruins of Nanda Parbat.

Which meant she had to be out here on a mission for Ra's, no matter what she claimed to the contrary. She would lie to cover herself if the situation called for it. Shaking his head, he then returned the conversation to the previous subject. "Who are you looking for exactly?"

Batman expected one of two outcomes of this question. Either Talia would tell him, or she would not. The latter would tell him this was someone Ra's considered a high priority, which would explain why Talia was searching for them rather than one of his thousands of assassins. The four he had dispatched were just as much guards for the Demon's daughter as they were a scouting party.

Talia made no attempt to hide the identity of whom she was searching for. "I am searching for a child. He is quite impetuous and stubborn and managed to evade his guards when we were moving to new headquarters. It's important that I find him as soon as possible."

For once, Batman was not too proud to admit he was stumped. Why would Ra's want a child? And why would he send Talia to fetch him? He was dumbfounded, a feeling he wasn't quite used to. "What does he look like?"

That response caused Talia to brighten. "Are you going to help me, Beloved?"

"That depends on the description you give me."

Talia immediately reached to her belt and pulled out a photo from one of the pouches. She then held it out to him. Looking at it, Batman saw a young boy, perhaps five or six, a scowl on his face, looking for all the world with a large chip on his shoulder.

The vigilante leaned closer to the picture. His hair was neatly groomed back and dark. He could see a slight resemblance between him and Talia, but there was something else, something familiar about him. Though he was dressed in ceremonial Chinese garb, he couldn't help but picture him in something else.

"Is he wearing a blue and white bodysuit?"

Immediately, Talia whipped the photo to one side as she shoved herself up against him. "You have seen him?!" she nearly demanded, a frantic tone in her voice. "You must tell me where!"

That was...an odd reaction. "I have him in custody," he replied to her, seeing no reason to hide that fact. "He decided to invade my home earlier tonight."

Talia was still for a moment before her shoulders sagged. It was a reaction more from relief than anything. "I should have known," she said, a mocking tone dripping from her words. "He is quite taken with you."

That didn't make sense. "Why would he be interested in me?"

"What little boy is not? You are strong, Beloved; all little boys are drawn to strength."

"Except I've never seen him until tonight." A frown began to grow on Batman's face. "And he managed to—"

Immediately, he stopped himself. Talia could not know of the Cave beneath his house, even though she knew of his alter ego. She didn't know everything about him.

"Let me guess," she picked right up, despite his halted speech, "he managed to enter your Cave."

Well, so much for hiding that. It shouldn't have surprised him that Talia would know about his base of operations; if she knew, then Ra's most assuredly did. "He did," he acknowledged with a nod. "He did so without tripping every alarm."

And that was why he had frowned earlier. With the boy's connection to the Demon's Fang, it suddenly made sense why he had managed to sneak up on Zatanna and Cassandra. But why would a legion of assassins train a boy so young? There was something else he was missing in all of this.

As if to confirm part of his thoughts, Talia said, "He is a growing boy; he will get better with more training. Allow me to come with you and I will retrieve him."

There was something in the Dark Knight that told him that was a bad idea. Apparently, Talia was able to recognize his hesitation as she pressed. "Please, Beloved, I need you to take me to him. He is...important to me."

The worry that was pouring from her face told him there was something else she had not mentioned about the boy. At the same time, he couldn't come up with any reason not to do as she asked. Perhaps she would be more willing to answer the growing number of questions he had concerning the boy if she had him at her side.

"Alright, I'll take you to him," he told her, which caused a smile to appear on her face. "But first, you need to tell me something."

"Anything, Beloved."

"How did you take off my mask?" Considering all of the countermeasures he had put into his suit, Talia had removed the cowl way too simply. She hadn't even activated the countermeasures, which he found galling. He had to know how she did it.

"That is simple," she told him, a hint of humor returning to her voice. "Even when you wore a helmet as an assassin, you incorporated means to make sure it wasn't forcibly removed easily. However, you left an opening for me to remove it for you. It was the same with your mask."

_Of all of the…_Batman had to fight back the grimace he felt working its way onto his face. He had a subconscious tick that he hadn't realized he had. Now that he thought about it, the way Talia had removed his mask was much the same way she had removed his helmet when they had been lovers. Even though her intent was not malicious, she had taken advantage of that. It seemed he needed to go back to the drawing board and remove that one weakness.

Until then, he would make sure no one else found out how to remove his mask.

* * *

There had been some activity, the kind that Gordon couldn't ignore. Unfortunately, the Guard had unwittingly blocked sight of whatever it was, but at the very least he knew that this new development was at the command tent.

The Commissioner had come up with several theories as to what it was, even shared a few with Sarah who stood beside him. While she should be directing whatever officers they had on this side of the river, currently they were coordinating their efforts to somehow salvage something, anything, from the mess that he had brought down on them.

"Scouts?" Sarah suggested, her fourth suggestion so far.

"For what? Last I checked, Eiling was content with keeping the Guard on this side of the Gotham," Gordon answered, playing devil's advocate while prompting the Lieutenant to elaborate further.

"I would imagine that even for Eiling, keeping abreast of anything new in the city would be a priority. There were those explosions earlier," Sarah pointed out, arms crossed over her chest while peering in the same direction as the Commissioner. "Maybe he's keeping a closer eye on Bane than we thought."

All valid, but with little evidence so far to back either of them. Logically they made sense, but when you've been in law enforcement as long as both of them, logic could serve to blind you from the reality just as often as it could uncover it.

"If it was a scout, there's a lot of activity for one man, or a team," he pointed out, his hands shoved into the pockets of his coat. In days long past, there would have been a packet of cigarettes gripped by one of his hands, but that was a habit he had miraculously managed to kick. Hell of a time to quit smoking, though.

"It can't be a politician, there would be a lot more activity, and it would be much louder," Sarah replied, referring to one of the first ideas that had been thrown out.

"I never said it was a politician, just that it could be a high-ranking official from who knows what department," Gordon felt the need to point out. Even at home, there were people who liked to put words in his mouth, but at least those people weren't ones who were trying to hurt him.

"It can't be a general, because that would be just as loud. Plus we already have one of those," his wife remarked.

They continued with the back and forth, both trying to see if they could somehow divine what was going on. It was during this that a guardsman approached as if homing in on the pair. "Are one of you two Commissioner Gordon?" the young man barked out, obviously a person taking the situation way too seriously.

"I would be he," Gordon admitted, shifting his body so that he was facing the guardsman more fully.

"General Eiling requests your presence. I'm to escort you to command," the soldier stated, straightening his posture.

Glancing at Sarah, he shared a knowing look with her before saying idly," I'll be back in a bit. Don't wait up for me."

"Don't be too late," she replied, and only then did Gordon return his full attention to his escort.

Shrugging his shoulders, he commented, "The wife. What can you do? You can lead the way now."

Not even showing any signs of catching onto that pathetic excuse for humor, the soldier turned on his heel and began to lead the Commissioner straight to their destination. They had to worm through the flow of guardsmen, everyone seeming to have some place they needed to go to. Boots crunched on the pavement, providing a mess of noise that would make it hard to hear anything through it.

Eventually, the pair arrive in the tent, and the first thing that drew the Commissioner's attention was the ragged form of Flag. That had been one of his guesses, but he hadn't seen the man thanks to the Guard. The last he knew, Flag had been heading out to the reservoir. Had he gotten into some trouble there too?

"Where have you been?" Eiling demanded, glaring at the glasses-wearing law officer.

"It's good to see you too, General." Gordon spoke casually, though curiosity was burning inside of him. From his previous sightings of Flag, the commando was tough, always upright, always in control. Compared to now, this man was slumped over, his breathing heavy, and looking much worse for wear. His armor and uniform were torn up and there were dark splotches all over him. The Commissioner narrowed his eyes, but kept his thoughts to himself.

"What kind of freak show are you running here?" Eiling pressed, glowering, but keeping his distance.

"You're going to need to be more specific," Gordon answered.

"You want me to be specific? Fine. First, there are those costumed maniacs at the power plant, then Flag's team gets its ass handed to it at the water plant. If I didn't know better, I would think someone was spying on us." Now Eiling was narrowing his eyes and Gordon could feel what was coming next.

However, the Commissioner was able to narrow in on a detail.

"How did a team of elite marines, or SEALS, or whoever they are, get beaten?" he asked. "Aren't they suppose to be ready for anything?"

"Don't give me lip, Gordon. You have some explaining to do." Now Eiling was marching over to him, a hand just over the holster of a sidearm featured very prominently at his hip.

"General, I am going to need more than what you're giving me. Tell me what happened. Maybe I can make sense of it all," Gordon argued. He didn't want to play fast and loose here, but at the same time if Eiling knew that he himself was spying on them, that was not a can of worms he wanted to open.

"Eiling, calm the fuck down already." Huh, an unexpectedly assist from Flag of all people. He could see how the General was hesitating, throwing a quick look over to the commando.

Deciding to seize on this, Gordon asked, "Tell me what happened. What's going on?"

Flag took a deep breath, his shoulders shaking slightly. Something about that wasn't right; it was wrong on so many levels, and Gordon couldn't figure out why.

Finally, "We were on a mission. Over at the Gotham reservoir, we had just arrived when we were ambushed. There was a cloud of smoke and then...my team was gone. All I could see were...dead men. Let's leave it at that. They opened fire, so did I. When it's over, I still see them, but something's not right. I saw people who shouldn't be there and in there place…"

Gordon was starting to get an idea of what was going on here. For a moment, he had to really think about it, because damn, had it been that long ago? Still, he needed more information.

"Was there anything else? Anyone else?" he pressed, moving closer to Flag and crouching on his knees so that he could get a better look at the army man's face. Haggard was an underestimation to describe the other man's appearance. Now that he was closer, Gordon thought those splotches he had noticed earlier appeared to be blood.

"There was. A man with a sack over his head. Burlap I think," Flag took a moment to sum up his thoughts.

"Anyone you know?" Eiling asked testily, his arms crossed over his chest.

"As a matter of fact, I do," Gordon stated. "It sounds like your team was exposed to a hallucinogen. More specifically, the effects you describe and your reactions lead me to believe that you got a dose of fear toxin in your system."

"Fear toxin?" Eiling repeated. Flag had picked up his head, his eyes boring into the Commissioner, demanding more answers.

"It's the same stuff used during the October 27th Attack," he explained. "The man who invented it is called Jonathan Crane and he used to be a guest over in Arkham Asylum before the Joker released everyone there. Guess now we know where Crane is, or went."

"Yes, I guess you do now," Eiling snarked. "Why the hell has it taken you so long to find him?"

Before Gordon could answer, Flag spoke up, "It doesn't matter, General. What matters is why he was protecting the reservoir. He deliberately attacked my team; do you know the reason why?"

"I don't think that matters either. I can send the Guard over to neutralize him," Eiling retorted. "Easy. Simple. And we can shut the place down while we're at it."

"Bad idea, unless you want a bunch of trained soldiers poisoned like Flag and his team," Gordon pointed out. "This stuff can only be breathed in and last I checked, the United States Army doesn't train soldiers to fight clouds. You'll be making a bigger mess if you do."

"So we send them in with gas masks and air filters. The bastard won't stand a chance." The General was giving the Commissioner a pointed look as he spoke.

"Do you have those right now?" Gordon asked blandly, leaning back as he waited for an answer.

Eiling hesitated before looking away. "I can get them in in a few hours."

Under normal circumstances, Gordon would have been against anybody under Eiling's command going to the reservoir; at the same time, Crane's presence there changed everything. Whatever he was up to, it couldn't be good. But what was it that man was trying to do? Like he had mentioned, that fear toxin could only be breathed in; as far as he knew there was no other way for it to get into a person.

Plus, Crane and a water plant didn't seem to line up. Why would a man like him hide out in a place like that?

Great, perfect, now he was having mixed feelings.

Then, as if they couldn't get a break, there was an interruption from a guardsman. "Colonel? There's a call for you," the uniformed man stated, standing just outside of the command tent. "It's urgent."

Flag's shoulders seemed to sag before they straightened out. "Phone," he stated, holding out a hand. The guardsman reciprocated, placing an iPhone in the Colonel's hand. "Flag," the commando greeted, falling silent.

Now what was this? Whatever it was, it was interrupting them, and Eiling seemed to be on the same page as Gordon. Unfortunately, Flag wasn't one of those guys that responded to every sentence a person said. He was nodding his head periodically before finally ending the call with an "Understood."

Putting the phone down, he looked straight up at Eiling. "I've received new orders. I need to get into Gotham ASAP."

"Can't do that. We have it all quarantined and besides, you don't look like you're in any shape to be going over there," the General responded, frowning.

"It's from the higher ups. You can give them a call, or save time and help me," Flag stated. "It doesn't matter what condition I'm in either, orders are orders. You know this."

Eiling placed a hand over his face, a good sign of frustration if Gordon had ever seen it. Almost reminded the Commissioner of himself during times of high stress, which were every other month, or recently almost everyday.

Abruptly, Eiling said, "Fine. I'll get you over there."

Huh, that was unexpected for the General to give in like that, and so easily he might add. Eiling knew something, something about Flag and who he reported to. The mustached man remained silent, watching as everything played out.

Something else was going on here; his gut knew it and it was screaming at him about it. It made him wonder what else was happening beneath the surface that he had yet to scratch.

It also made him determined to find out everything about it.

* * *

"I need you to fix this; no, improve it."

Slamming down the damaged tubing, along with the Venom pump itself, onto the table, Bane looming over it as he stared down the last of his loyal lieutenants. Zombie looked down at the crucial device, staring at it for a moment before looking back up at the masked man.

"What do you want?"

A simple and direct question; the thin bald man was looking for what exactly his master desired so as to make it a reality.

"Strengthen the tubing; I do not want a mere blade to be able to sever it. It is a liability that has existed too long. It is miraculous that I had not foreseen it," Bane stated. "Make sure that the port connections cannot be dislodged easily, or at all. My feed will not be a weakness again."

"I will get right on it," Zombie stated as he reached for the device and tubing.

"Not yet," Bane interrupted. "There is one more matter that I need to attend to, one that I would prefer your presence. Walk with me."

"Of course." Zombie waited as Bane moved around the table before following after him through the door.

The pair entered a large room, the remnants of their forces stacking various crates and supplies, anything they were able to recover from the port. On top of that, a redirected shipment from Cobblepot had recently arrived, ammunition being the majority of it. However, none of that held Bane's attention.

The large, metal column on the far side of the room was the Santa Priscan's focus. This machine was the creation of Tetch's, the very thing that he had commissioned the smaller man to make. High up, men used cables to dangle from the ceiling while others worked on the circuitry. Others still were in the process of welding rounded metal plates to cover up exposed areas, creating a metal shell around the machine's framework. The machine nearly reached the ceiling itself, and unless Tetch intended to make it bigger, Bane figured that it was almost complete.

Approaching the bizarrely-dressed, smaller man, his top hat being the only thing that gave him any height, Bane ordered, "What is the status, Tetch? How close are you to completion?" Coming to a stop, he folded his massive arms over his chest and kept his gaze on the Gotham native.

In a large blue coat that reached down to his knees with a large, green bow tie, Tetch looked over at him, already becoming nervous. "We are nearing completion, my good sir. It won't be long now until everything is finished."

"How long?" Bane was in no mood for promises of any kind, no matter if they were true or false.

"Depends...Sir," Tetch answered, adding that last word as an afterthought. "There will need to be calibrations and tests in order to ensure that my darling here is everything you desire it to be."

Delays. That is what this all amounted to. More delays that he could no longer afford.

"How long until everything is complete?" Bane demanded.

"I apologize, but I can't give you anything definitive. Should I do so and I miss one problem, one teensy, tiny bug, then all my work will be for nothing." Tetch was pulling at his bow tie, not daring to look at the larger man.

Bane understood the explanation, but he did not like it. "Tell me how it works. How will this give me control over all of Gotham?" it was time to ignite Tetch's pride in his work. The submission was grating on the masked man's frayed nerves.

"Well, I initially tried to based it off my original technology, but I could not get past the one fatal flaw in my design." Immediately, Tetch's confidence raised, his shoulders straightening as he turned his gaze to the machine. "No matter what I tried, my brainchild is only effective at close range; the longest distance I could do was five feet and no more. It was very..._frustrating_."

"Because your mind control device uses electrical impulses to manipulate brain activity," Zombie stated.

"Oh my, you are a well read man. It is a pleasure to meet someone who is a connoisseur of my…" Pausing, Tetch noticed Bane's visible agitation, and coughed into his hand before continuing, "My apologizes. In order to get around the distance conundrum, I looked for a different means to transmit my signal, and I found it.

"My machine will use sound waves to manipulate brain activity in the mind. Anyone who hears it will be unable to resist it, much like the Sirens of distant past. Beyond soundproof materials, there is nowhere a person can run to escape, not that they can because once they hear it, their minds are already captured. And the machine will continue to produce this sound wave as long as you need it to."

Bane gazed at the machine, taking it in and adding this new information to his own observations. Recalling the materials that he had requested from Cobblepot, he was able to connect how these materials amplified sound, and why Tetch had asked for them in the first place. However…

"There is a flaw. What happens if the machine is shut down? Does the mind control end?"

Knowing better than to butter him up or stall, Tetch was quick to answer, "From the initial tests I have been running, I have found that prolonged exposure increases the duration of the manipulation. In time, the signal will alter the brain itself, and theoretically, it could be a permanent change."

"And no further need to keep it running," Zombie concluded.

"How long?" While the question had been asked before, there was a different meaning to it this time.

"By my calculations, I would predict approximately twenty-four hours of uninterrupted exposure before the control is permanent."

"And the range?"

"The entire area of Gotham, including the parts across the river. With enough time, I could expand it to include the rest of the state, if not half the Eastern Seaboard."

Which meant resistance from the soldiers across the river would be neutralized as well. A whole new source of troops, one with the numbers of a city would be at his fingertips. Bird had been wise to recruit this man.

"Are there any weaknesses? Other ways that this signal can be stopped?" Zombie asked, gaining Bane's attention immediately.

"Well, there is one," Tetch admitted.

"What?" Bane growled, glowering at the smaller man.

"If a person happens to have a pair of these." Right then, Tetch reached into a pocket and removed two small objects—earplugs, he recognized. "These little things would prevent a person from hearing the sound, and thus prevent the mind control in the first place." Giving the two Santa Priscans a look, Tetch gave a small smirk. "But what are the odds that nearly ten million people happen to have a pair of these lying around in a convenient location?"

The logic was sound. "One more thing," Bane said.

"Oh? How else may I be able to help?" the Mad Hatter inquired.

"Your hat. Remove it."

"My...hat? But whatever need would you have—"

Bane interrupted the nervous man's protest. "I am fully aware that you have an alternative method to protect yourself from the machine. Give me your hat." Uncrossing his arms, he held a large hand out in demand for the article of clothing. Zombie meanwhile slipped out a knife and allowed the warehouse's dim lighting to reflect off of its metal surface.

Trapped, Tetch hesitated before finally giving in and removing his top hat, handing it over reluctantly. Immediately, Bane snatched the hat out of Tetch's hands and began tearing the hat's material apart until he found what he was looking for. In the hat's brim, he found a headband embedded within it.

Here was how Tetch prevented himself from falling prey to his own creation's design. It would serve Bane now as he would need protection. He could already see himself falling to that siren call and trying to paradoxically follow himself. No, such an amateur mistake would not be made. It also allowed himself protection in case Tetch tried to steal this machine for himself.

"Continue working. You have seventy-two hours to complete the machine. Any longer and your employment risks coming to an end. Do you understand me?"

"Y-yes, Sir." With his head bowed, Tetch slunk away, more than eager to get back to work.

Confident, Bane turned his back on his native recruit, marching away with Zombie at his heel. "I will keep an eye on him personally. His prowess with technology is unsurpassable, but his loyalty is not. I will ensure there will be no delays while you complete your other task."

"And afterwards?" the thin Santa Priscan asked.

"Turn your attention to the men, get them organized and prepared for any kind of attack. I'll take care of the initial preparations, but everything else will be from you. We must assume that my enemies will find us here and we cannot let them destroy the machine before it is completed."

A sharp whistle, followed by a "Yo! Bossman," prevented the masked man from speaking further. Up ahead stood two of the remaining assassins that he had hired, the pair watching him in particular.

Zombie took point this time, increasing his pace so that he stood in front of his master to address the hired hitmen. "You took your time returning. We could have used your skills earlier."

"We were just doing what you paid us to do. I didn't see any clause that requires any of us to fight your battles for you too," Deadshot deadpanned. "Too busy getting some heads for you for payday. Speaking of which."

A long exhale of air escaped from the Santa Priscan. Through all the chaos, he had almost forgotten about the hired guns, both figurative and literal, and the deal struck with them. The assassination attempts tonight, combined with the hallucinations, had dominated all of his attention to the neglect of other matters.

"Before you begin with...your other task, pay them. Maintain their continued services," he ordered to his lieutenant.

"Very well." Zombie removed an iPad from within his jacket, turning it on. "Payments will be completed...excuse me, but where's the other one?" The bald man paused in his assurances to look over the hitmen.

"Deathstroke? Oh, he's got something in the works. Think I might watch the fireworks once we're finished here," Deadshot remarked. Glancing over to the black-dressed archer, "What about you, Mer? Want to see what the competition's up to?"

"I have something else in mind. Unfinished business," Merlyn replied.

"Eh, suit yourself," the marksman shrugged his shoulders before returning to Zombie. "Hurry it up, Cueball. Bullets cost money."

Choosing to direct his energies elsewhere, Bane left Zombie to his duties while he ventured to his diminishing Venom supply. His consumption was taking a toll, and combined with the fact that he would not be receiving any new shipments, plus the lack of materials and ingredients to make more would mean his time was limited.

Yet, he needed a dose to make up for the sudden withdrawal of it. He needed his strength back and everything that came with it. However, rationing it further, only taking enough to avoid the withdrawal effects. He should have enough to make it to the deadline he had given Tetch and by then, it wouldn't matter if he was running out.

Everything this city had to offer would be his.

This time, he would be breaking its will instead of its back.

* * *

Though tears were not shed, there was clearly an emotional moment going on.

Batman watched as Talia took a knee, her arms wrapped around the young boy. It was a tight embrace, as if Talia didn't want to let the child go. In comparison, the boy still had the same scowl on his face, looking as if he wanted to be anywhere but that exact spot.

From behind his right shoulder, the vigilante could feel Zatanna's presence, the magician looking over shoulder at the sight. The moment she had set her sights on Talia, a scowl not unlike the one on the boy's face had appeared on hers. It was quite clear that she disapproved of the other's presence in the Cave. In response, Talia had merely returned Zatanna's glare with a cool look, as if the other woman was beneath her. However, there had been a hardness growing with every passing second, indicating whatever feelings the magician had towards her were mutually returned.

That had all changed the moment the boy had been retrieved. Relief had written itself on Talia's face and she had charged towards him, falling before the boy before trying to suffocate him in her arms.

During all of this, Batman couldn't help but notice that Cassandra wasn't there. She was apparently getting some air, or so Zatanna claimed. Where exactly she was getting that air, Batman didn't know. Perhaps that was for the best considering the last time they talked.

"You can let go of me, Mother," the boy spoke then, obviously having quite enough of the hug.

Batman's head jerked up at those words. Blindsided by shock, his mouth dropped open. Mother? Talia was a mother? She was a _mother?_ How? When? By who?

Immediately, his mind went into overdrive, analyzing Talia's every move since they had met at the parking garage. Analyzing them while incorporating this new development, he began to realize her actions were that of a desperate mother searching for her lost child. So she had been telling the truth when she was on a mission for someone other than her father.

Talia took a deep breath before she stood up to her full height, moving the boy to stand in front of her as both of her hands clamped own on his shoulders. "Thank you so much, Beloved," she thanked him, getting control of her emotions as she spoke. "Thank you from the bottom of my heart."

"Beloved?" he heard Zatanna grumble under her breath. He didn't need to turn around to know the dark-haired woman had an eyebrow raised at that term of endearment.

"I didn't realize you had a child," Batman finally responded, shaking off the daze he had been in since the boy's admission.

"That is to be expected since you have been away for so long." Talia tilted her head back, a look of pride on her face. "His name is Damian."

Hmm, how fitting a name for a scion of the Demon, even if it was by a generation. Glancing to the boy, he saw Damian had his arms crossed over his chest, a sour look on his face. He didn't look the least bit pleased to be here.

At that point, Batman felt he should say something. What did normal people do in situations like this? Compliment the child? Damian looked as if he would snarl if he so much as sneezed in his direction. While that might have pleased Talia, her bulldog of a child would do his utmost to disprove whatever compliment was said about him. So he stayed silent.

Then Talia looked down to Damian and said, "Damian, I would like for you to meet your father."

It was like a lightning bolt struck him. His brain shut down as his body went numb. He stopped breathing completely. Zatanna gasped behind him, but he paid her no mind. He could only focus on Damian, studying his every feature, blindingly naming which ones were inherited from the Wayne Family.

"He's nothing like you told me he was," Damian then complained, looking up to his mother petulantly. "You told me he was honorable and strong. Do you know he surrounds himself with women? That he—"

"Quiet now," Talia stopped him, shooting him a warning look. Surprisingly, Damian obeyed her, tilting his head back to scowl at the Dark Knight once more. "I had hoped to introduce your son to you under a more fitting environment, Beloved, but sometimes fate has other plans." She then urged her...their son forward, which he did, the two walking up to Batman. "I can see this is a lot to take in. Whenever you wish to talk, seek me out. We will remain in Gotham for as long as it takes."

And then they were moving around the stunned vigilante. Batman didn't even turn to follow their exit, fixated as he was with the cave wall in front of him. Zatanna didn't have the same problem as he did though, as she suddenly demanded, "As long as what takes?"

Talia's reply was as simple as it was direct.

"For my Beloved to return to us."

* * *

To FlackAttack: I hope that explanation was sufficient. I had almost forgotten about the Batsuit's countermeasures before remembering them


	20. The Trap Is Sprung

It was going over and over in his mind. He had a son. A child of his own flesh and blood. And he hadn't even known he had existed.

Normally, Batman's mind would be trying to figure out why that was, analyzing anything and everything. But he found he couldn't. Hell, somehow he was sitting in the chair in front of the supercomputer, even though he wasn't even using it. He was in a daze.

That wasn't taking into account an irate Zatanna either.

The magician stood at his side, facing him as her arms crossed over her chest. She was openly scowling at him, one of her feet tapping expectantly, though all that did was create a monotonous tapping sound that echoed throughout the cave. Had he been in full control of his faculties, he would've found it annoying. Right now he didn't pay it an iota of time.

"A kid. An actually child you fathered," Zatanna was ranting. She had been saying something along those lines for a long time now. At least he thought she was. He wasn't really paying attention.

"Why now?" she asked then. "After all of this time, why did she bring the kid in? Something isn't making sense."

Batman found himself unable to answer.

"You know, this would be more productive if you joined in."

Batman turned his chair to face her. "What would you have me say? I...I have no idea how to feel about all of this."

Zana's expression softened a bit. "Sorry, Bruce, I hadn't thought how this would affect you. It's just…" she trailed off as her scowl came back, only it was clear she wasn't directing it at him. "I just don't like that woman. She's up to something, I just know it."

"That makes sense," he hesitantly agreed, though it lacked his usual conviction.

"Do you think she's trying to entrap you? You know, it's obvious she has a thing for you. For all we know, she picked that kid off the streets, brainwashed him, and is claiming he's your kid. That would be something those Demon people would do. I mean, she didn't even stay around for a paternity test or anything!"

That was possible, but Batman highly doubted it. He knew Talia, or at least had known her, intimately. The care and patience she was showing Damian was just the way she had acted with him when he had been injured. Then again, she was quite an actress when the situation demanded it of her.

Because he didn't voice any of this, he remained silent, which only made Zatanna antsy. "Why don't you tell me what your relationship is, was, with that woman? Maybe we can figure out what her angle is with all of this."

Well, this was going to be uncomfortable. A simple, "None of your business," would have been gratifying, but it would do little to help sort through this mess. Besides, if she was determined—and he had the feeling she would be—Zatanna would do her damnedest to get to the bottom of this. It would be better to tell her now rather than have her hear a twisted version of things.

"Talia is the daughter of Ra's al Ghul," he began, only to be interrupted immediately.

"How the hell did Ra's have a daughter? And one that's still alive?" she demanded. "Is she using the Lazarus Pit too?"

Batman shook his head. "No, she's our age. Just because Ra's is several centuries old doesn't mean he can't sire children whenever he wants."

"Oh. Okay. Continue."

"Anyways, she holds the same esteem as her father does inside their organization. She's practically royalty. During my time with the Demon's Fang, we became intimate."

Zatanna narrowed her eyes. "How long."

"A year, maybe two."

"No, not how long you were together. I mean how long after you left me behind did it take for you to shack up with her?"

Batman leveled a glare at her. He didn't say any words, not that he had to. She knew the story, she knew better than to question him like that. All of this was her insecurities popping up when they had no place in this discussion.

Fortunately, her defiant look began to weaken upon his stare. He decided to answer her then, and only then. "Perhaps a year, maybe more after the Gotham Fire, if you must know. It was all kept secret because we believed Ra's wouldn't approve of her conversing with a lowly soldier."

Zatanna slowly nodded her acceptance of this. "Not going to lie here, Bruce, but your amnesiac self had some poor taste. I mean, really? Her?"

Oh, so now she wanted to go after his dating history. How many buds of trouble was he going to have to nip during this conversation? "You're really going to ask me that?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, I would _never_ hook up with someone that bad for me. I mean, really, Bruce. What were you even thinking?"

He gave her a dubious look, then said two words that he was certain she wasn't prepared for.

"John Constantine."

Her reaction was instant. Zatanna's mouth dropped open with shock. "Wha…? How do...? Why?"

All he did was give her a look, one that spoke all the words he did not. It said, "Do you really have to ask?"

Like a goldfish, the dark-haired woman closed her mouth, only to open it again to say something and finding her words dying on her tongue. Over and over she did this, speechless. Then finally, "Fine, I get your point."

She had better. John Constantine was an arrogant ass she had shacked up with for a couple of years. He had never pried into their relationship and she never told him about it, her stunned reaction admitting as much. That didn't stop him from doing a thorough background check to find out everything he could about the man. Just because they weren't seeing each other any more didn't mean he stopped caring.

Currently, the two were separated. He wasn't sure what the reason was for them breaking it off, but he favored this arrangement than the two of them together. From what he learned of Constantine, he wasn't thrilled with him and Zana staying in closer quarters.

Alas, that was a subject for a different time.

Suitably chastised, she then said, "So what made you stop seeing her? I mean, as far as I know, you weren't looking for her after we returned to Gotham."

That was actually a good question. After his memory came back and he re-entered the Gotham scene, Talia hadn't even crossed his mind. There was the occasional moment of wistfulness, but it rarely went further than that. He had a greater concern with how fast the Demon's Fang would regroup than what his relationship status was. Following Nanda Parbat, the various Fangs had splintered and vanished. Obviously they had been reformed when Ra's returned, but he had been satisfied with the fact the Demon's Fang was inoperable at the time.

However, he did have an answer. Duty wasn't the only thing that prevented a reunion between him and Talia. "I had you," he answered succinctly.

A smile appeared on Zana's face. "Good answer."

He returned her grin with a small one of his own. "So you cut off ties with this woman after Nanda Parbat. I'm guessing you two weren't seeing eye to eye then."

Hmm, not quite. "Actually, we were plotting to overthrow Ra's at Nanda Parbat."

Zatanna froze. "You..._what?!_ But...you were with me and the League. You asked us to help stop Ra's from flooding the world with Lazarus! You were on our side!"

It would seem he had never told Zatanna the full story. Whoops. Batman sighed. "I had placed a tracking device on Wonder Woman when I let her go. Had things gone differently at Nanda Parbat, my next move would have been to finish the League off. The tracer would show me where she went to meet up with the rest of you, so if any of you escaped, I would be able to find you."

The dark-haired woman was stunned. "So...you were using us to get rid of Ra's? You were only pretending to have second thoughts?"

"That's right."

"But you saved me. You even had your memory back." She paused. "How did you get your memory back anyways?"

"While the Seven Men of Death were keeping you and the League occupied, I challenged Ra's. He ran me through and dumped me in the Restoration Pool to see if it would work. It did, obviously, and my memory came back."

Zatanna stared at him for several moments before she sighed. "I should have known you coming back intact was more convoluted than what you told the League. I'll drop this for now, but you have to know you're going to be in for some tough times now."

"Such as?"

The dark-haired woman looked at him calmly. "Cassandra. She doesn't know about this yet and with the way things are between you two, I don't think she's going to handle it well."

Zatanna couldn't have hit him any harder than she had. Cassandra was still absent, a small blessing, but he could see exactly what the magician was getting at. If...when she found out about this, there was no telling what would happen.

"Where is she?" he demanded.

The magician's lips tightened into a straight line. "Don't get mad, okay? I know I said she was getting some air, but she went into Gotham. I made sure she ended up with the Network with my magic, but that's the last I know of where she went."

Batman felt his body sag in his seat. This was a bad situation. While a part of him wanted Cassandra back immediately, he knew he couldn't make that demand. Her fighting ability was returning to her, if not completely restored for the most part. He couldn't deny her presence in the city considering his own health issues and his adamant refusal to be babied.

Yet, he couldn't keep this from her, not if they were to heal the rift between them. "If you can find her, please tell her I'd like to talk with her," he said to Zatanna with resignation.

"Hey." Zatanna leaned towards him, her knees bending so that she was able to look him closer in the eye. She placed a comforting hand against his cheek. "I know you two are having a hard time right now, but everything will be fine, okay? I'm here to help."

"So you'll talk with her?"

"Yeah, I will."

"And you'll tell her everything that happened here."

A sardonic smirk appeared on her face. "Oh, sure, I'll do your dirty work. Just know that you'll owe me for this." He knew better than to take her sarcasm at face value. There was a twinkle in her eye, indicating she was teasing him. In fact, she was drawing closer to him and he found himself leaning towards her in turn. Zana raised a hand touched his face, caressing his cheek tenderly.

The beginnings of this tender moment of course had to come to an end then. "_Hey, Bats, come in,"_ Green Arrow's voice sudden cut in through their comm links.

"Damn cock block," Zatanna muttered as she stood up to her full height, something that caused Batman to smile before he responded.

"This is Batman."

"_We have a situation here. Well, to be more precise I have a situation. I just learned there was a robbery from a nearby Queen Industries factory. Normally I wouldn't ask any help with this, since this would be more of a Star City matter, but I got it on good authority that whatever was stolen is being taken to a warehouse in one of Gotham's shipping yards. Thought you might want to get in on the action."_

"I'll meet you there," he replied before he stood up. "I could use your help, but—"

"Finding Cassandra is important too," Zatanna finished for him. "Don't worry, I'll handle your runaway teenager. You go do your Batman stuff. Just don't get hurt, or me and your girl will lock you up in the Batcave, got it?"

* * *

Petit was feeling a little twitchy, but that was from all the coffee he had been drinking recently. It had to be, but that didn't mean he wouldn't steady his hands by placing them on the table. Various maps of the city were laid out on the piece of furniture, all focused on various parts of the city. The top of the pile honed in on one section in particular, giving more details than what would be found in a general overvue.

This thing was going to be a freaking work of art. It was going to do what should have been done a long time ago, but no one had the balls to do it. He was going to bring an end to a problem that no one else had, one that was bigger and badder than even Bane.

Because animals like Bane came and went. The vigilante game never stopped—until now, that is. This war was about to heat up and in all the right ways. The GCPD was going to take advantage of what was a city slowly falling into chaos and make the changes it needed to make.

Sometimes you had to violently remove a tumor than let it set there, poisoning you slowly. There would be more medical crap he could reference here, but the SWAT commander and now current temporary head of the police was not a doctor.

"This is where it's going to be," he said, having to make an effort to control his voice. For some reason, it felt like an effort to do so; maybe he was starting to crash from the lack of sleep and large amount of caffeine he had ingested? Nah, couldn't be; this was a sign he was doing his job right. "We set up here, here, and here. Cover all the angles. Leave no ways to escape, not even by air or freaking rooftop.

He got a couple nods from the guys who got it. Others were being silent, which for some reason pissed Petit off. He resisted the urge to shake his head clear; he just needed to explain himself further, let his tactical mind shine and show them why he was the one in charge.

"We move in here, create some noise while we do so. No sense being quiet about it," he continued, drawing his finger along the map to demonstrate movement. "Once inside, we secure, make sure we have total control of the building. If anybody resists, we don't wait. Fire on sight. Be lethal about it. No one gets out of there, especially not free."

"We're not going to get in trouble for this, are we?" one of the guys asked, looking up to the SWAT commander.

"We're still under martial law, remember? There's a lot we can do now, including this. Nothing is holding us back so let's go all out for a change," Petit stated. "There's no Commissioner around to hold us back and he's stuck on the other side of the Gotham. There's no Lieutenant, there's no Bullock, just us. When we've saved Gotham, let the whiners and cowards complain all they like; this is how you get results. Don't forget, we're at war people. Pretending it's anything else is going to fuck us all over. War is ugly, get over it."

"Uh, Bill. How is this going to fight Bane again?" someone else asked, and that earned the commander's attention and general pissed off mood.

"I don't have to explain everything. Just do what I tell you to," he retorted, snapping at the critic. "There's more than just Bane to worry about. We need to make sure after we take back this city that we keep it and we don't let other people trying to do our jobs steal our thunders. We're taking out all the competition and not just the enemy."

There were some nods, but he couldn't help but notice how slow they were. There was reluctance and that soured his bad mood already. There couldn't be any holding back; everything they did needed them to do it one hundred percent!

That included taking down those vigilantes once and for all.

* * *

The city was alive.

There was something in the air, be it negative energy, tension, whatever you wished to call it. It ebbed and flowed, affecting the senses of those sensitive to it.

Pieces on the game board were moving. She knew this as she watched the speeding black SUV race down the streets of Gotham. It weaved through the sparse traffic, alerting anyone that spied it that it was on a mission.

Yet, it was too obvious. She could feel it in her bones that whomever was driving that car, they were trying to be spotted. Well, they indeed drew the attention of one of their targets, assuming she was such a target.

However, she was no one's prey. She was the predator, one of the few that could claim to be at the apex. She found and followed her prey, ensured that she alone would get her kill, and then it was all over. In this instance, however, there was a trap set, it's mastermind unknown.

That would not continue for much longer.

Lady Shiva drifted away from her vantage point. Ra's men would keep her informed of the SUV's destination, so she was in no rush. An apex predator never rushed.

* * *

It seemed the Gotham Docks was a popular destination as of late. The latest battle between Ra's and Bane had happened at the nearby harbor not too long ago. In fact, the battle scars were still evident.

The docks were practically attached to the harbor, but unlike the ships that made their home there, the docks was were the cargo was stored. Shipping containers and warehouses dominated this area, one that had been left untouched by the previous festivities.

Standing on the roof of one of the warehouses, Batman looked down at the street below. The locale was at the docks' entrance, where the city morphed from commerce to manual labor. Next to him was Green Arrow, who was just as studious in his observations.

Yet, they weren't the only vigilantes here. It seemed Black Canary had been invited as well, which made for three of them. It would be four if you counted Oracle, who was keeping track of the transport vehicle.

"I'm still unsure what was stolen," Green Arrow informed them, his eyes intent on the street below. "But considering everything that's been going on in Gotham lately, I thought it was best not to take any chances and recover it. At the very least, we'll be removing a few more bad guys from the streets."

"That surprises me," Black Canary responded. "You usually know what was taken and what wasn't."

Batman didn't so much as twitch. He was quite aware of Arrow's secret identity and it seemed Black Canary was too; her subtle hint indicated as much. The two blond vigilantes were trying to communicate without letting him know this fact. He'd play along if only to keep them at ease.

"From what my contact told me, they're still trying to piece together what just happened. All anyone knows is that the getaway car was heading into the heart of Gotham."

"Why the docks, though? After everything that happened recently, you would think these guys would stay as far away as they could from the port."

"Which is why it makes for an excellent rendezvous point," Batman replied then. "Common sense would dictate staying away, so no one would think twice with coming back to the scene."

"That sounds like a stretch," Canary said.

"In this case, it looks like it's the right thinking," Green Arrow cut in as he raised an arm up and pointed it. A pair of headlights had appeared and were coming closer at a high rate of speed. "Considering the lack of traffic and that car is hauling ass, I think we have our thieves."

As predicted, a black SUV came flying down the street, hitting its brakes as it reached the entrance to the docks. This was only so that it could make the turn without flipping over. Hitting the turn, it then picked up speed and crashed the chain link gate, forcing it open. The SUV pulled up to the warehouse across the street from the three vigilantes, coming to a complete stop. Car doors flew open as three men jumped out.

All three hurried to the back of the truck and opened the back door. Two of them grabbed the handles to a container and hauled it out, immediately carrying it to the warehouse door. The third man then slammed the truck door shut and beat his hand against it, which alerted the driver to take off. He then followed his friends to the warehouse.

"That's it," Green Arrow said, his voice dropping into a dangerous tone. "I can see the Queen logo on that box."

"Then it's time we go show these boys they messed up in the wrong city," Black Canary said as she began cracking her knuckles.

* * *

The three men lingered towards the center of the warehouse. The crate they had been carrying was set on the floor, the men ignoring it as they high-fived each other.

From a rafter, Green Arrow watched them. He had seen this before. It was the same scene after every successful heist, right before he busted it up and gave the thieves a failing grade.

This time was different though. These guys had stolen from his company, so ipso facto, they stole from him. This was personal. Normally, he would've handled this all on his own, but this wasn't Star City. In Gotham, there was a different king in the castle, so he did the right thing and deferred. Thankfully, he was being included on this bust.

Glancing downward, the archer eyed a fuse box. That was his destination and he was just above it. Checking his grapple, he made sure the grapple cable was wrapped firmly around the rafter. He only had one shot at this and he was going to make it count.

Suddenly, the lights within the warehouse went off, bathing the entire room in darkness. That would be the Bat killing the lights to the building per their plan. There were several cries of surprise, followed by thin beams of light suddenly turning on. It seemed these guys had flashlight attachments on their guns.

"Someone, check the box," one of the men ordered.

That was when the three lights began to separate. One stayed by the crate as two went in different directions. As it happened, one of the lights was heading in Green Arrow's direction.

The Emerald Archer watched as his prey came closer and closer to the fuse box. He had to admit, there was an element of excitement he wasn't used to welling up in his stomach. In fact, he was starting to feel a little giddy. Perhaps there was something to trying to scare the crap out of criminals.

_Alright, Arrow, it's time to kick some ass, Gotham-style._

Tossing the length of his grapple line off the rafter and watching it fall to the floor below, Green Arrow then dropped off his perch. He could feel the cable dragging against his glove as he fell, the friction creating a nearly unbearable heat in his palm. He ignored it as he began to swing his legs back and forth, which in turn caused his body and the cable to swing.

By then, his target had reached the fuse box and was just about to open the door. Perfectly timing his fall, Green Arrow came swinging forward, holding his legs out in front of them and pressed together. The bottom of his boots rammed into the side of the robber, knocking him clear off his feet as he cried out. Due to the force he had been hit with, the man went flying into a wooden box, one that was stacked on top of another. Though Arrow had hit him hard, the guy didn't break into the box so much as crashed into it, cracking the wood.

_Huh, I guess there's something heavy and sturdy in that crate._

The man collapsed to the floor in a heap, followed by Green Arrow landing on his feet, going into a crouch to better steady himself. That was one man down, that just left two.

Now, the archer was fully cognizant that when going after multiple targets, stealth was advisable, if not desired. The fact he just blew that tactic out of the water with his stunt was completely alright. In fact, he had been told to do whatever he wanted to do.

"Alright, partners, let's see you top that," he murmured.

* * *

Black Canary heard the scream. Either Batman or Arrow had taken out their guy.

Pressing her back up against a couple of crates, the blonde vigilante was glad her outfit was black. It helped her blend in with her surroundings.

She could thank the Bat for that, by the way. He had told Ollie and her that he would be giving them a tactical advantage. Knocking out all of the lights did just the trick in her opinion. Eyeing an approaching beam of light, she slunk further into the darkness until she saw an armed man walk by her hiding place. The guy didn't even check the crevice she was in, strolling right by as he clutched tightly to his gun.

He was going to be easy pickings.

Carefully, Black Canary slipped out from her spot, moving behind her prey. The man swayed his gun from left to right and back, about the only sign he was actually searching, for what or who was unknown. She liked to think it was her, but then, this guy didn't seem to be all that concerned about his surroundings.

Raising a hand up, Canary held her fingers as straight as they would go, pressed tightly together as her thumb curled into her palm. Then in an instant, she lunged forward, delivering a chop to the back of the man's neck.

Immediately, the guy went limp, a weak gasp coming out of his mouth before he dropped into a heap on the floor.

Well, that was unsatisfying. Maybe she should have taken Batman up on his order to be as noisy as possible. There was something in her that resisted doing so, probably a principle or something. Oh well, maybe next time she'd do as told.

* * *

Two flashlights weren't moving. That meant Arrow and Canary had taken care of their targets. That left one standing by the stolen Queen Industries goods.

Perched on one of the crates, Batman looked down on the man. He was starting to get panicky as he circled around, trying to find whatever was taking out his friends. He hadn't even bothered to look up, which was a major failing on his part.

Springing up from his perch, Batman sailed through the air until gravity began pushing him down. With his legs extended below him, he dropped right on top of the man, his feet slamming on top of his shoulders. The force of the blow knocked the man off his feet, forcing him face first into the floor. Pieces of the wooden floor broke and snapping, jutting up into the air around the man.

And then the rest of his target's body collapsed onto the ground. Hopping off of the man, Batman came to stand on the floor, turning his head to eye the man he had crushed before turning his attention to the stole Queen crate. Silently, he walked right up to it.

For a moment, he hesitated. There was something wrong with all of this. Considering that this crate had been taken from a renown company like Queen Industries, it was strange the number of people involved were so few. That wasn't even considering just how easy it had been to dispatch each man. Canary and Arrow hadn't said anything about having trouble. In fact, Batman was quite certain he could've handle this all on his own.

Stopping before the crate, the vigilante activated the thermal vision in his scowl. From top down, his lens adjusted, whisking away the dark storeroom and blacks and blues took up his vision. Turning his head, he soon spotted a source of red and orange. It was of a body, someone standing. Close by was another person, though they were lying on the floor. That had to be either Black Canary, or Green Arrow.

Slowly turning around in a circle, the Dark Knight spotted the other vigilante and their opponent—and that was it. There weren't any other people hiding here. If there were, the thermal vision would've spotted them hiding. It was just them, three vigilantes and three would-be criminals.

Coming around to face the crate, he suddenly stopped. Looking at the crate, he noticed a large source of heat coming up from it. What the hell had these men stolen could produced this much heat? Turning off the thermal vision, his lens returning the scene of the dark warehouse, Batman moved to open the lid to the box.

Immediately his eyes widened even as the sound of computerized beats reached his ears. Lying within the crate were bricks of C-4 explosive, a small metal device sitting on top of them with wires sticking out of it. The wires twisted around each other, creating a mess of cords that reached out to detonators sticking out of the C-4. On a small screen, digital numbers reading 10...9...8...appeared, a beep corresponding with each ticking down of the timer.

"Canary! Arrow! Get out now!" Batman roared into his comm link.


	21. The Dark Knight Meets The Terminator

This chapter is going to seem very familiar to some of you. I'll reveal its origins at the end of the chapter, but until then, I hope everyone enjoys.

* * *

A stiff wind blew through the port, causing wood planks to creak and towering cranes to groan from the bolts keeping them in place. Dust and dirt was kicked up, sprinkling against the wall of a warehouse, pelting the wooden boards.

The side of the warehouse suddenly burst apart, sending jagged pieces in every which direction. Legs coiled beneath him, arms crossed in front of his head in order to protect his face, Batman was in mid-leap as he emerged through the cloud of broken debris.

There was a light, one of orange, yellow, and red, which grew brighter rapidly. An instant later and an explosion blasted through the hole the Dark Knight had created, the force of the blast slamming into his back.

Batman cried out as he went crashing to the ground, skidding across it until he came to a stop. He felt debris hit his body, though thankfully they were just small pieces of the wooden wall he had broken through. Bearing his teeth, the vigilante began pushing himself up onto his hands and knees, tilting his head to a side so that he could look at what was left of the warehouse.

The stolen Queen Industries crate had been a trap. He should have known it would be considering the minimal security and the even smaller number of men involved with the theft. Looking behind him, he saw the warehouse smoldering, the wooden structure beginning to cave in on itself as a towering black cloud rose into the night sky.

First thing was first, he needed to see if Black Canary and Green Arrow were alright. They had been in the warehouse with him and they had about as much time as he had to escape considering the warning he had shouted. Rising up onto his feet, he began to reach for his comm link before he froze.

"Looks like you got my invitation," a voice called out.

Looking up, Batman found he was surrounded by rows upon rows of shipping containers. On top of one row, a man emerged into sight.

He had heard rumors of the man. Anyone familiar with the world of assassins had at least heard of his name and the reputation that came with it. The colors of black and orange clothed his physically perfected body, the ends of a headband waving in the wind behind his head. He stood there relax, yet his body was radiating excitement.

Deathstroke the Terminator.

Intel had indicated he was in Gotham, another of Bane's recruited assassins. Unlike Deadshot's shooting galleries and Merlyn's attacks on the GCPD, Deathstroke's handiwork had gone unnoticed in comparison. Yet, they had been there. This man had found Ra's men and they hadn't stood a chance.

This was not a man to underestimate.

"It's just you and me," he called down to the Dark Knight, holding his hands out to either side, revealing them to be empty. It was a taunt, one to say that he only needed his bare hands to fight. Instinctively, Batman moved a hand to his belt, sticking his fingers into one of the pouches.

"C'mon!"

Simultaneously, both men moved. With a swing of his arm, Batman sent three bat-shaped shuriken flying at Deathstroke even as the man himself took off running down the line of shipping containers.

Arms pumping at his sides, a shipping container rose up to form a backdrop behind the assassin. Racing by it, there were three sharp _thuds_ as one by one the shuriken flew right behind Deathstroke and collided with the container. Each projectile stuck into the metal surface, giving off a brief burst of sparks.

However, Deathstroke appeared to be running into a dead end. Ahead of him, a shipping container rose higher, forming another level. Undeterred, as he reached the end, Deathstroke leap into the air, angling his leap towards the container next to him. Planting one foot on the long metal box, he used it to spring higher into the air. Stretching his hands out, they collided with the edge of the container, which he used to balance himself as he swung his legs up over his head. Going into a flip, Deathstroke even spun around in the air before his feet began the downward swing of the flip. Landing with a dull thud, the assassin took off running once more.

On the ground, Batman had given chase, running unimpeded on the dock. Noticing the row Deathstroke was on was about to come to a sudden end, he knew where he could intercept the man.

Pulling out his grapple, he fired it ahead of the intercept point, the grapple claw hitting and attaching itself to an anchor point. Immediately, he flew up into the air, rapidly closing in on his foe.

As Deathstroke reached the end of the container, he leaped into the air, spinning around as he did so. There was something in his hand, Batman was quick to note, even as he closed in on the man. A second later and he watched as the object extend in two directions, forming a staff.

Releasing his hold on his grapple, Batman allowed his momentum to carry him the rest of the distance between him and the assassin. He held his arms out, ready to catch the staff strike that was surely coming his way.

Because of his focus on the staff, he completely missed Deathstroke swinging one of his legs. The next thing he knew, the man landed his kick against the vigilante, the blow knocking him in a completely different direction.

The next thing Batman knew, his back had collided with the side of a shipping container. He bounced right off of it as he grunted from the collision, landing on the top of another container. Due to his momentum, he slid across the metal surface until he reached the end, sailing over the edge and falling onto a lower container, where he landed with a hard, banging thud.

Batman coughed as he gasped for air, his landing having knocked the wind out of him. Jesus, this was a bad start. He had fights not go his way before, but never this early. As he caught his breath, his eyes caught movement above him. Jerking his head, he saw Deathstroke leaping from the container he had fallen off of, descending towards him as he yelled out a war cry, jabbing the end of his staff downward.

Immediately, the Dark Knight rolled to a side, just as his foe slammed the butt of his staff right where he had been lying. A low _BONG!_ echoed throughout the area, a dent forming where the staff had struck.

Rolling onto his feet, Batman quickly stood up, raising an arm up just in time as Deathstroke continue to offensive. One end of the staff collided with the dark-clad man's arm, sending a shock down it from the force of the blow. Immediately, Deathstroke was attacking with the other end, which the vigilante blocked as well with his other arm.

However, with a quick rotation of his arm, Batman slipped his forearm underneath the staff and then pushed it up to position the weapon in too awkward a position for another attack. That was at least the plan, but Deathstroke spun to his right, pulling his staff away before swinging it out for another strike. Raising up both of his arms, Batman blocked the blow before it could hit him in the head.

That was when Deathstroke pulled back his staff while simultaneously lashing out with his leg, landing a kick to the dark-clad man's face. The force of the kick sent the Dark Knight flying into the door-side of a shipping container, which he immediately used to brace himself against, a grunt slipping through his lips.

That was when he heard metal scraping against metal. Hesitating for a moment, a shadow passed over Batman before he caught the bottom side of a container over his head. It seemed him crashing against a container caused the one above to slide forward albeit to the left. Deathstroke saw the giant box coming towards him, which forced him to jerk away in the opposite direction of the loose container.

The container finally reached a point where it lost its equilibrium and its face dropped downward, slamming down on the container the two fighters stood on. It then rolled to a side, falling towards the ground below, where it crashed with a loud _BANG!_

Darting forward, Batman took advantage of Deathstroke's moment of distraction. Getting a running start, the vigilante leaped up into the air, extending a leg out as he did so. His flying kick caught Deathstroke off guard, nailing him against his chest. The assassin was thrown backwards through the air, falling over the edge of the container as he disappeared from sight.

The moment Batman landed on his feet, he quickly made his way to the edge of the container to see where his foe had landed.

By the time he reached the edge, it was too late. The moment he looked over, he saw the bottom of Deathstroke's foot an instant before it slammed right into his face. Head snapping backwards, it was Batman's turn to be thrown backwards yet again. While he didn't fly as far as his previous unintended flight, he did land on his back on the opposite edge of the container, a jolt of pain racing up his spine.

Batman hissed as he slid over the edge, somehow flipping head over feet. Already he could feel just how tender his back was, especially where it had been injured from his fight with Bane. Being tossed around a shipping yard wasn't doing him any favors either. Though he was consumed by that pain, luck finally graced him with some as he landed on his front on top of yet another shipping container. In fact, it was the one that had fallen from earlier if he wasn't mistaken. Yet, he didn't just land so much as he went sliding across the metal surface. Ignoring the pain that was slowly going away, he maneuvered his arms so that he could dig the ends of his triangle blades into the container, finally stopping him in one place.

Teeth gritted, Batman took only a moment to take a couple breaths before he force himself back onto his feet. By then, Deathstroke had landed on the other end of the container, coolly staring down the vigilante with one eye.

"You know, I had heard you were good," the assassin spoke to him. "And I have to say, I'm not too disappointed."

"You're not bad yourself," Batman replied as he raised an arm up, rubbing the back of his hand against his mouth to wipe away a growing wetness from his lips. He didn't bother looking at his hand to know his lip was bleeding.

"Yet, I have to admit I'm not quite trying. You'll have to do _much _better to keep me entertained."

A scowl appeared on the Dark Knight's face, even as he took a breath and then released it. Unfortunately, Deathstroke was every bit as good as he had heard he was, if not better. He was still trying to figure out just how the man had turned falling off a container into an opportunity to land an attack. Seeing as the assassin wasn't holding his staff, he must have used it to rebound back up.

If such a move was Deathstroke playing, then he was in serious trouble.

Seeing that their conversation was over, Deathstroke took a step towards him, and then another, all the while reaching up to a sword hilt that stuck out from behind his head. Grabbing the handle, he then pulled out his sword, then lunged at the vigilante less than a fraction of a second later.

The first sword strike was a thrust aimed right at Batman's face, which he immediately parried with his left forearm. Backing up a step so that he could maintain a visual on his foe, he saw Deathstroke slash back at him with his sword, prompting the vigilante to lean further back, his right arm practically pressed up against his chest so that he could block the blade. Sparks shot off from where steel bit into metal, the sword bouncing off a triangle blade. Undeterred, Deathstroke took another shot as he slashed once more, only for Batman to copy the same move, only with his left arm.

With each strike, Batman backed up a step, which prompted Deathstroke to step forward to maintain the same distance between the two. A sword strike accompanied every step the assassin made, which was successfully blocked by the dark-clad man in turn.

Then, as Batman blocked another slice from the sword with his left, Deathstroke then leaped into the air, spinning as he did so to gather circular momentum for his next strike.

Again, Batman blocked the attack, though he was quick to notice the blade had slipped right in between two of his triangle blades. Immediately, he crossed his other arm until it pressed down on top of his blocking arm, so that he could ensure Deathstroke wouldn't overpower him.

Taking a step forward this time, the edge of Deathstroke's sword scraped against his gauntlet, closing the distance between the two combatants. Without hesitating, Batman then swung out his right arm, delivering a backhand blow to the side of his foe's face. Not allowing his arm to complete the full swing, he immediately dropped his hand to grabbed onto Deathstroke's right shoulder, to which the assassin shot his free hand up to ram a palm strike against his forearm.

This caused his arm to bend uncomfortably until he lost his grip on the man's shoulder. Drawing his sword back, Deathstroke immediately swung it back, which again Batman was quick to block with the same arm as before, the blade bouncing off harmlessly.

Again, Deathstroke tried another strike from the same side, being parried once again. He then spun around as he moved his sword out so that he held it with the point right by his side. With a quick jerk, he attempted a thrust that slid by his side, aimed right for the Dark Knight. In response, he blocked the strike with his right arm. The one-eyed assassin then spun again in the opposite direction, swing his sword right for the vigilante's head.

This time, however, Batman shot both of his arms up and caught the sword between the triangle blades of both gauntlets. Having exhausted his patience with the sword, Batman twisted his body to one side even as he pulled both of his arms in opposite directions.

This put an incredible amount of pressure on the sword until it shattered between the triangle's blades. Small shard shot in all directions as the top part of the sword went falling to ground, clattering against the shipping container before falling off it's side.

Because of the turning of his body, Batman took a page right out of Deathstroke's book and spun around on his heel. Holding his right arm up, keeping it bent at the shoulder, he tried to ram his elbow into the man's face, to which the assassin blocked with his own right arm. The two bounced off of each other, which gave Batman a second to fully complete his spin so that he could face man.

Because of this, he realized that even though Deathstroke's sword was broken, he was still fully capable of using it. Instinct saved the vigilante as he kept his raised right arm up, just in time for the base of Deathstroke's sword to collide with it, a sharp, scraping sound echoing out.

Though skilled, it turned out Deathstroke's determination to continue using his sword had left him vulnerable. As his sword arm crossed over his chest, the man tried a back swing, to which Batman shot his left hand up and caught his foe's arm right at the forearm, stopping the swing in mid-air. With his free hand, Batman balled it into a fist before swinging it, slamming it right into Deathstroke' side, which caused the man to flinch from the blow.

That was when Deathstroke tossed his sword from one hand to the other, allowing him to swing it right for the Dark Knight's head. Leaning backwards, end of the broken blade passed a few inches away from his neck. As he leaned forward, he immediately jerked back again as Deathstroke tried a backswing, missing him as the blade cut through the air.

Lunging forward, he then shot both of his hands out, one grabbing onto Deathstroke's shoulder while the other clamped down on his face. This time it was Deathstroke's turn to back up a step as Batman pressed forward.

Eying the shipping container next to them, Batman poured his strength into his arm and rammed his foe's head up against the metal side, hearing a _bang _echo out from the collision.

That was when Deathstroke shot up his left arm, forcing against the arm Batman was using to pin the assassin's head, and knocked it aside. With that same hand, he then pressed it against the side of the vigilante's head, holding it there. Pulling back his head, Deathstroke then threw it forward, delivering a stunning headbutt to his opponent.

Dazed, Batman was helpless as Deathstroke then released his head, only for his hand to quickly clamp down on his neck. He didn't have time to gag as the assassin pushed forward, causing him to bend over backwards. There was a flash of metal and Batman was just fast enough to get a hand up in time to grab onto Deathstroke's sword arm, holding the blade's edge off mere inches from his throat.

Gritting his teeth, Batman fought as hard as he could to keep that sharp edge away. His back was straining from the awkward position it was and his arms were beginning to protest how long they had to hold off his impending death.

"You're finished, Batman," Deathstroke said, strain evident in his voice as he fought to slash the dark-clad man's throat. "You just...haven't realized it yet."

Batman's eyes flickered up to the one-eyed man, then they darted away, looking for something, anything that could help him. What he found was the side of the shipping container the two had bashed each other up against. It was close; maybe close enough.

He had to try.

Pulling up a leg, he then stomped it down on the side of the shipping container. Tightening his grip on Deathstroke's arm, he then swung his other leg up, beginning to run up the side of the container. This caused him to whirl around his foe's extended appendage, his world spinning down and then up. Deathstroke's hand slipped off his throat and the pressure from his broken blade vanished as his world spun.

The moment he landed on his feet, the Dark Knight latched his free hand onto his opponent's shoulder. Twisting his body to a side, he grunted as he pulled as hard as he could, lifting Deathstroke off of the container they stood on. Letting go, he threw Deathstroke through the air, the vigilante watching as the assassin landed on his shoulder and slid over the metal surface.

Even then, the one-eyed man's body was moving, maneuvering until his legs were underneath him, a hand pressed down in front as he came to a crouched stance. His slid came to a stop at the container's edge, Deathstroke staring him down before he stood up to his full height.

That's when he made a mistake.

It was a small, one that he shouldn't have ever made. Yet, there it was. As Deathstroke stood, his right foot had ended up too close to the edge of the container. In fact, the back of his foot ended up hanging over it, so when the assassin rose up, the weight he put on it went unsupported and his leg jerked down. In response, Deathstroke looked down as he readjusted, jerking his leg up so that he could put it back down on the shipping container. It was a purely instinctual response, even an animal would've done it.

In an instant, Batman had his backup grapple in hand. Pointing it right at his foe, he fired it, the grapple claw flying through the air until it latched on to Deathstroke's throat. Immediately, the man grabbed onto the cable as he yanked his head back up to look at him wide-eyed.

Simultaneously, Batman hit the retraction button on the grapple gun even as he pulled it backwards and down, holding it by his hip. The twin action caused Deathstroke to come flying towards the dark-clad man, leaving him wide open as Batman immediately released the grapple and extended his arm out to one side. A moment later and Deathstroke slammed right into the arm, his upper body stopping from the clothesline as his legs continued forward. He went into a flip, where he ended up landing on his stomach on top of the shipping container.

Spinning around, Batman began swinging his leg, timing himself to land a kick to Deathstroke's head as he would inevitably begin pushing himself up. However, his recovering time was slightly faster than expected. Before he had even landed, Deathstroke had both of his hands out in front of him, letting go of his broken blade so that he could catch his body against the container they fought on and minimize the full impact landing would have done. He then pushed himself up even as he brought his legs under him.

Reaching a hand to a gun holster at his hips, the assassin pulled out a gun, leaning his body to one side as he took aim at the vigilante. Already in mid-kick, Batman changed targets as he swung his leg shallower, the toe of his boot colliding with the side of the gun and forcing it to a side. A fraction of an instant later and the gun went off, a bullet flying harmlessly by. In fact, the force of the kick, knocked the handgun out of Deathstroke's hand, sending it falling to the container, where it bounced off and fell over the edge.

Bringing his kicking leg down, Batman continued to spin, lifting up his previously grounded leg and lashing out with it. Unfortunately, Deathstroke was ready. Though the vigilante's kick landed, hitting the man at his hip, Deathstroke's arms immediately pinned the leg against him. Sure that he had a lock, the assassin shot a hand up and then swung it down, landing a blow to Batman's hip and sending a jolt of pain down his leg.

Bearing his teeth, the dark-clad man yanked his leg back, ending up surprised as Deathstroke allowed this. He found out why as the assassin had already drawn a fist back and was in mid-swing. Unable to think, much less dodge or counter, the fist slammed into Batman's face, which was followed up by another, the force of each blow knocking his head from side to side.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a third punch coming. Forcing himself out of the brief daze he felt from the fist two blows, he shot up an arm and blocked the incoming punch. Immediately, he held his other arm by his hip, hand balled into a fist. Swinging it upward, he tried to land an uppercut, but Deathstroke had begun yanking his head back to avoid the fist.

However, he was a hair too slow. Though it wasn't perfect, Batman's punch glanced off the one-eyed assassin's chin. This caused Deathstroke's head to jerk back further than he certainly wanted to while leaving Batman's arm crossed in front of him.

Bending his extended arm, he then lunged forward, ramming his elbow right into Deathstroke's face, stunning the man as he began to stumble a step backwards. Bringing his arm down, Batman shot his other hand out, slamming his open palm against his foe's chest even as he moved one foot between the man's legs, placing it right behind the black-and-orange assassin's foot.

Pushing as hard as he could, his foot causing Deathstroke to trip, the man's legs flying upwards as he was slammed down hard on his back on the shipping container.

Before Batman could follow up, Deathstroke brought one of his flailing legs up to his chest before he kicked out with it, his foot ramming into the Dark Knight's chest. The blow sent him flying backwards, the vigilante taking only a split second to marvel at how fast his opponent had recovered and promptly delivered a counter.

The moment he felt gravity take hold of him, Batman was leaning towards one side. He ended up landing on top of the shipping container on his shoulder, immediately going into a roll even as he twisted and turned his body until he miraculously ended up on his feet. Taking a quick moment to take a deep breath, he then rose up to his full height, seeing Deathstroke doing the same.

"You're good," Deathstroke complimented him. "I think I'm actually starting to try."

"Same here," Batman retorted. However, in his head he knew he was bluffing. It was clear that Deathstroke was the better fighter. As a trained martial artist, he knew he needed to be honest with himself; this man had the advantage. Everything he had thrown at him, Deathstroke had countered, adjusted to, or flat out defeated. Unless a miracle came, he was in serious trouble.

Raising a hand up, Deathstroke reached for another sword handle, one that was situated on the opposite side of his to the one he had drawn earlier. "I'm not sure if you are the same Batman from before, but I'm more than willing to find out."

Batman did a mental check of the gear he still had on him. He highly doubted his shuriken were going to make a difference other than buying him some time. Perhaps an exploding shuriken might be of use, but he needed to time its use perfectly. Bolas were out of the question and the smoke pellets could be used against him. He had no doubt that Deathstroke would use the smoke cloud to his advantage, using it to obtain a vantage point to follow the vigilante before striking, much like he would intend to do. Perhaps his electrified brass knuckles could—

That's when he saw it. From the top of his vision, he saw something—no, someone—falling downwards. They held their hands above their head, a sword held tightly in their hands.

As his head tilted up to better look at this person, he never lost sight of Deathstroke. There was a growing shadow on the assassin's head, a clear indication of who this person intended to strike.

Deathstroke must have sensed the deadly intent, or he noticed Batman's diverted attention. Either way, his eye widened and he dove forward, going into a roll just before the mystery person landed, their sword slicing downwards and cutting right into the shipping container.

Continuing his roll, Deathstroke ended up on his feet, staying crouched though this time his back was facing the Dark Knight so that he could better look at his attacker. He had his hand firmly gripping onto the hilt of his sword, pulling it just enough to reveal the steel of the blade.

Immediately, the two combatants realized this interloper was a woman. Short dark hair and an oriental design to the clothes she wore, she slowly rose to her feet, her sword sliding out of the ruined metal surface so that she could hold it at her side.

Batman felt himself go cold, numb even. His stomach dropped into a dark abyss as he saw her Asian features and the small, cruel smile that graced her face.

_Shiva..._

* * *

For those who haven't guessed by now, this chapter was based off of the Arkham Origin's trailer, where Batman and Deathstroke duked it out. There are small changes towards the end, but for the most part this was a blow-by-blow retelling. I rather like that trailer and had wanted a similar fight between these two. So I though, why not use this one? For those who want to have the visual, you can find the trailer on Youtube. Again, I hoped you enjoyed. The next chapter is going to get _very_ interesting.

To FlackAttack: It would go in a scene similar to the Justice League cartoon. They're on the run, need to hide and one is reluctant to reveal themselves. And then Batman drops the bomb. "Dinah Lance, Oliver Queen, Bruce Wayne." I get the feeling I'm ripping off a lot of other media lately.


	22. Batman vs Deathstroke vs Shiva

_She stood like a statue. Her legs were pressed together, arms molded into her body. The practice gi she wore belied her dangerous nature._

_The dark-haired man stood across the mat from her. Though he towered over her, he knew she was more. Every move she made was efficient and lethal and she only moved when necessary._

_She was Lady Shiva, the Destroyer of Worlds._

_In contrast, he was nameless. Just a mere grunt barely worthy of her attention. He had no need of a name, not after the debt he owed. And yet she stood before him not just an indomitable obstacle, but as a teacher. She had taken a liking to him, her reasoning going beyond his understanding. He was honored simply by her looking in his direction and deciding not to kill him._

"_You know what today is," the Lady Shiva spoke, not once relaxing her body. Never had he seen her stand this rigid before._

_The man responded with a sharp nod. "I do."_

"_Then you know what will happen should you fail."_

"_I do."_

"_Then let us commence."_

_Lady Shiva had always opened their practices with the same words: Let us commence. Every time she had said them had left him beaten and bruised, sometimes gasping for life. She knew just how far to push him and then pushed even further._

_Today was different. After their last practice, she had told him as much. Today was the day he showed her everything he had learned. Should he fail, it would be his end. If he did not defeat the Lady, she would not hesitate to kill him._

_It didn't need to be said that he hadn't defeated her once in all of their spars._

_However, if he were to proceed, he needed to do this. Raising his hands, he formed a fist with one and pressed it into the palm of the other, bowing before the Lady. She returned the gesture, mimicking his every move during the bow. The moment the bow ended, they both assumed stances. Holding his hands out in front of him, his fingers curling like talons, the dark-haired man spread his legs, ready to attack at a moment's notice. Lady Shiva, on the other hand, relaxed. She allowed her arms to dangle at her sides even as she took a step towards him. Then another. Then another._

_He could feel the world around him shrink. His attention was only on the approaching Lady and what lay behind her. Though it was only a wall with a mat on the floor, it represented so much more. The growing space behind the dark-haired woman was doom_—his doom—_and it was coming closer to him with every step she took._

_He would meet this doom head on._

_Lunging forward, the man thrust his right hand forward, aiming a palm strike at Shiva's head. In response, the woman tilted her head to one side, his strike flying over her shoulder harmlessly. A small smile graced her red lips, her eyes glimmering with amusement._

_And then he rotated his arm and pulled it back, his hand ending up latching onto the back of Shiva's head. He had her! Pulling her head with all of his strength, he launched on of his legs up, bending it at the knee, every intention on ramming his knee into her face._

_Except, Shiva saw it coming. Perhaps she hadn't expected him to use his first attack as a feint, but the moment he grabbed her, she knew what he intended on doing. Though he was pulling her head forward and then down, she shot both of her hands to catch his knee, stopping his attack in mid-strike. Suddenly, she threw her legs upwards, going into a flip as she used his raised leg to balance herself. The move caused his hand to slip right off of her head, leaving her doing a handstand on his knee._

_The Lady's legs moved one behind the other during the flip. Pushing off of his leg with her hands, she then began her downward arc, the heel of her bottom foot slamming down on top of his head. The force of the blow snapped his head downward even as he grunted from the pain. He immediately planted his raised leg down to steady himself even as Shiva landed before him._

_Face twisted from the pain, the dark-haired man forced himself to keep his eyes open no matter how much he wanted to squeeze them tight. Because of this, he saw the Lady throw a fist towards his...no, not his face, it was too low. His throat!_

_Jerking backwards, he shot an arm up just in time to block the blow and shove it away. Undeterred, Shiva launched a barrage of punches, her arms punching back and forth like pistons. It took all of his concentration to block each and every one of them, using his height to his advantage as he would block the initial contact, then shove her arms upward in an attempt to throw her off-balance. Needlessly to say, Shiva rolled with his tactic, always returning her arms to her sides before firing them right back at him._

_And then she leaped off the floor, spinning around in a circle as she lashed out with one leg, swinging a kick right for his head. Immediately, he ducked the kick, then leaped backwards, putting some distance between them so that he could regroup._

_Lady Shiva landed on the ground, but made no move to attack. "That's one point in my favor," she announced. "Much better. You managed to successfully block my Panther Barrage."_

_He didn't respond. Though appreciated, her comment was meant to inflate his ego, causing him to make a mistake. He would not fall for it again._

_Bracing his legs, he then darted towards his opponent, copying his teacher's move by jumping into the air at the last moment and swinging a kick for her head. As he anticipated, she leaned backwards, the bottom of his foot passing mere millimeters in front of her face._

_Yet, he was not finished. As he brought his swinging leg down, he brought up his grounded one, lashing out with it the instant he felt his foot touch down on the mat. This time, Shiva shot up both of her arms, one to brace the other as she blocked his kick._

_He knew what was coming. The last time he had done this move, she had blocked him just like she had done now. This had left him wide open with his back to her. As his leg bounced off of her block, his back exposed to her, he immediately leaned forward, allowing gravity to drop him down to the floor._

_There was a faint breeze that pulled on the back of his gi shirt, which told him Shiva had tried to strike his back. Hitting the floor, his arms catching himself and bending at the elbow in one smooth movement to absorb the shock, he immediately pushed up even as he pulled a leg inward before kicking back out, his foot striking Shiva's ankle, knocking her foot out from under her._

_Turning his head to one side, he saw Shiva stumble back a step, a genuine look of surprise on her face. It seemed his plan was working. In the lead up to this fight, he had tried to think of tactics that would give him the upper hand. He had brainstormed many, most of which he had discarded. Shiva was too good for conventional attacks._

_However, one of his remaining ideas had proven useful. Using all of his experiences against her, he realized he could use similar attacks from their previous bouts, only to alter their results. He knew how she would strike an opening in one's guard. He just needed to make sure he didn't absorb the entirety of her counters._

_Pushing himself up into a crouched position, the dark-haired man spun around on the balls of his feet and launched himself at Shiva. With a fist drawn back, he then threw it at the dark-haired woman._

_Yet, Shiva was quick to recover, once again like he expected. Before his fist reached her, she swung her right arm up, her forearm colliding at his wrist and forcing his arm up. Pivoting on her heels, she spun in a circle until her back was facing the young man, her left arm raised up and bent at the elbow. Jerking it back, her elbow shot towards his abdomen._

_Only for her elbow to ram right into the palm of his blocking hand. Fingers wrapping around the joint so that he could hold her in place, the dark-haired man then bent his raised arm at his elbow, causing her blocking forearm to slip right off of his appendage. Immediately, he dropped his arm down, slamming his elbow on top of her shoulder._

_The force of the blow caused the woman's body to cringe. He had her. He had her! He could win this! He could_—

_Suddenly, the young man felt something strike the inside of his foot, forcing it to slide across the mat and spread his legs further out than he liked. Immediately, he adjusted his footing, only to see Shiva had her bent right arm swinging towards him. This time, he took the elbow strike, only it was to his face, which caused stars to explode in front of his eyes. Because of this, he was blind to Shiva spinning around, the fingers of her left hand curled back as her palm jutted out. Before he could react_—_or at least have his vision clear, she slammed her left palm strike against the side of his face, the force of the blow sending him flying through the air. He landed in a heap on the floor moments later, a powerful ache in his face._

"_Get up," he heard the Lady demand even as his eyes finally began to adjust, the familiar colors of the room returning. "Surely that is not all you can do."_

_Climbing back onto his feet, the young man looked at Shiva. It seemed she had caught on to his strategy_—_damn it. He had hoped to keep this up a little bit longer._

_However, he wasn't completely out of tricks. There was one more he could use, but if this didn't work, then this was his end. He silently sent out a prayer even as he assumed another stance, holding his left fist out in front of him while his right was held at his hip._

_It was then he curled the fingers of his right hand much like Shiva had done prior, exposing his palm. He knew that Shiva knew what this meant. He had every intent on using her infamous Leopard Blow._

_And then he led with his left fist._

_Closing the distance between them, he fired the punch at Shiva, followed by a kick, then a second kick. The entire time, he kept his right hand at his hip, the Leopard Blow ready to be used at a moment's notice._

_Of course, Shiva blocked the punch and dodged the subsequent kicks. Undeterred, he kept up his assault, kicking at her with a front snap kick, which she dodged by darting to one side._

_Before she could lunge at him, he had his leg back down on the floor and was throwing another left cross, a move he made solely to keep her on the defensive. He was successful in this as Shiva held her ground to avoid the punch._

_However, the moment his arm reached its full extension, he relaxed his fist, his fingers pressing against each other as the thumb curled into the palm. Performing a backswing, he attempted a chop, one that sliced through the air harmlessly as Shiva leaned backwards to avoid._

_By then, he was certain Shiva had her attention on his right hand. Though she was looking at him, he could see her eyes shifting ever so slightly to keep her right hand in view. That was exactly what he wanted._

_It was time._

_Thrusting his right hand up, he shot out as far as he could reach it. Shiva immediately followed it, her head tilting slightly to keep it it in sight._

_This left her blind to his left hand balling back into a fist, then him swinging it. He saw her eyes sharpen an instant before he struck her as she realized his right arm was stretched too far out._

_And then his fist slammed into the side of her face, causing her head to snap to a side. He could feel the vibration from the violent collision of fist against face up his arm, informing him he had landed a solid blow. Yet, he was not finished._

_Tucking his arm inward, he then rushed forward, ramming his shoulder into Shiva's body while simultaneously dropping his right arm to her side. He hooked the arm around her leg and pulled it up so that she was only standing on one leg._

_And then the force of his tackle knocked her off the floor, the two falling to the floor with the dark-haired man landing on top of his opponent. Pressing his left forearm into Shiva's chest, he pinned her against the floor even as he drew his right hand up by his head, once again preparing the Leopard Blow._

_And then he swung it down for her face._

_A sharp clap echoed throughout the room._

_Instantly, he stopped the blow, his palm coming to a stop just above Shiva's nose. The dark-haired woman laid there, unafraid of the impending death that literally hovered in front of her face. In fact, she was smiling, her eyes alight with pride._

_Over and over, he heard clapping, which grew faster and faster before slowing to a stop. "Most impressive," a voice spoke._

_Immediately, the young man pulled away from Shiva, turning to his right so that he could prostrate himself on one knee as he hung his head to look at the floor._

_The Master was here._

"_Well done," the Master congratulated him. "I do not recall a time that I have seen the Lady Shiva cornered and I have my doubts such a time has ever occurred. Congratulations are in order."_

"_Thank you, Master," the young man mumbled._

"_He did performed admirably," he heard Lady Shiva say even as she stood up onto her feet. "I have to say, I'm certain he would have killed me right now."_

"_I agree. Raise your head, youngling."_

_The youth tilted his head up, his eyes falling upon the sight of the Demon's Head standing at the edge of the mat. There was no telling how long he had been there, but the look of approval on his face was incredible to witness._

"_Tell me, Lady Shiva, do you believe he is ready?" he then asked the Lady._

_The dark-haired woman gave a sharp nod. "He is. He passes the test."_

_He did his best not to show his relief and excitement. He knew of no others that had passed the Lady's trial. All whom that came before him had been killed, of that he was certain of. Talia had told him as much._

Talia...

"_Excellent," the Master replied. "Then it is time for him to earn his place as apart of one of my Fangs."_

_Lady Shiva raised an eyebrow. "Is that all you are going to use him for? Had I known I would not have accepted your request to train him."_

_The Master shook his head. "I meant no insult, dear Lady. Allow me to rephrase: I have a mission I believe will be suitable to his talents. While I had questions of his suitability in combat, you have done more than enough to relieve me of them. Now I have need of his mind."_

_His mind? Why did the Master need that of him?_

"_Rise, young one," the Master bade him, to which he immediately stood, arms pressed at his sides. "It is my will that I must make a request of you."_

"_Your will be done, Master," he instantly answered._

_A small smile played on the Master's face. "As you are aware, many of your fellow brothers have been sent out to secure the Lazarus Pits. As of now, their mission has been successful."_

_That was good to hear. Failure was unacceptable, a cause worthy of death._

"_And yet, I feel there are forces out there that would attempt to stop our salvation of this world. Though separately I have no worry, but united together, they are a threat."_

"_What do you wish of me?" the dark-haired man asked._

"_I want you to study these people. They are called heroes." Upon the word "heroes," the Master all but spat it out. "Though they are well-meaning, they are only allowing the true evil of humanity to continue blindingly destroy this planet. I charge you with learning all that you can of their strengths, their capabilities_—_and more importantly their weaknesses. If we are to defeat then, I wish to know everything about them. Will you do this?"_

"_I can, I shall," he answered._

"_Very good." The Master strode towards him, coming to a stop as he clasped one hand onto his shoulder. "You leave in the morning. Recover yourself and make all necessary preparations. Though this is but a small part, it is an important one in our efforts to save the world._

"_Go out and help me save it, Detective."_

* * *

The memory played before Batman's eyes. He recalled the day well, the one in which Ra's had given him his name and sent him out to study the very heroes that would form the Justice League.

That had been the last time he had seen Shiva. What she had been up to in all that time...well, he was certain it had been bloody. Someone like her didn't twiddle their thumbs, especially when big money was involved. Considering she had tried to cut Deathstroke down, he highly doubted she was working for Bane.

In fact, the only person he knew that would have called her in was Ra's.

In a way, this was worse than Ra's calling in his Seven Men of Death. Shiva was a killing machine, the likes the world had never witnessed before. She could take on whole armies should she wish it, or so he believed. Having witnessed what had to be a small sample of her skill set, he wouldn't bet on sheer numbers overwhelming her. And here she was in Gotham, facing off against some of the best assassins Bane's money could buy.

The destructive powers congregating together was enough to make him shudder.

"Who the hell are you?" Deathstroke demanded, his body coiled, ready to strike at a moment's notice.

Lazily, Shiva glanced at him before she began to stroll towards him. This only set the assassin on edge, his fists tightening.

"You ask who I am?" Shiva spoke as she closed the distance between them. "I am your destroyer."

In instant, Deathstroke threw his fist for her head. In response, the dark-haired woman whirled to a side, spinning across the shipping container they stood on. Then she was up in the air, almost as if she had floated right off the metal container. Fast as lightning, she lashed out with a leg, the heel of her foot colliding with the back of Deathstroke's head, causing him to jerk forward as he stumbled.

Landing, Shiva was facing her foe, holding her sword arm across her body. Without hesitation, she slashed her blade at him.

Though it appeared almost accidental, Deathstroke suddenly pitched forward. The reason Batman believed it was on purpose was the fact the black-and-orange-clad man shot his hands out and caught his fall, allowing him to swing his legs upwards as he went into a flip. This time it was his heel colliding with the flat side of Shiva's sword, knocking it upwards to ensure it didn't cut into him.

Pushing off the container with his hands, Deathstroke began to rapidly spin his body as his legs arced upwards then down, the assassin landing on his feet crouched and somehow facing Shiva. One hand was grabbing onto the hilt of his remaining sword, which he pulled out damn near silently. "I'll only say this one more time," Deathstroke growled as he stood up. "Who are you?"

Before the dark-haired woman could respond, Batman interjected with his own question. "What are you doing here, Shiva?"

Shiva gave him a sideways look, a coy expression on her face. "Saving you, it would seem, Detective. I thought I taught you never to fight when not at full strength."

"Shiva?" they both heard Deathstroke repeat, which caused both of them to return their attention to him. "As in the Destroyer of Worlds? I never thought I'd run into you."

"Nor I, you, Terminator," Shiva replied coolly. "Fate has decided otherwise."

Deathstroke raised his sword, pointing its tip right at Shiva. "I'm going to enjoy killing you and the Dark Knight over there." It seemed the assassin was done second guessing whether he was the real Dark Knight or not, if his words were any indication. "I don't know how you know each other, but I'll make sure you both accompany each other in Hell."

"We'll see about that."

Oh, great. These two were going to try and kill each other. In a different situation, Batman would have been more liable to let them carve each other up and he'd pick them off when they were weak. However, he knew Deathstroke was a strong fighter, and he damn sure knew Shiva's capabilities. This was a fight that would spill out from the docks and into Gotham.

He had to make sure that didn't happen.

In an instant, Batman had his hands reach into his belt, pulling a couple handfuls of bat-shaped shuriken. Throwing his arms out, he sent a wave of spinning shuriken flying at the two assassins.

Due to the way he was facing, Deathstroke saw the projectiles coming towards him. Whipping his sword out to his side, he then reversed his grip on his weapon before slashed it across his body, his sword striking the shuriken in midair.

As for Shiva, she immediately bowed, spinning to her left as the bat-shaped shuriken flew over her. As she came to stand facing him, she then launched herself at the vigilante, her sword slicing diagonally from above. Shooting his arm up, Batman blocked the sword strike, the blade colliding between two of his triangle blades.

There was movement from the corner of Batman's eye, causing him to divert his attention to Deathstroke. The assassin was charging in as well having again reversed his hold on his sword, taking advantage of Shiva's focus on the dark-clad man. Eyes widening, Batman then darted to intercept the one-eyed man, reaching out with his other arm to block the incoming sword swing, succeeding as he did so.

And then Shiva repaid his gesture by swinging a kick at him with her left leg, landing a solid body blow that knocked the wind out of him. Deathstroke took advantage of this as well, as he brought up his free hand, crossing it over his chest before swinging it out, landing a backhanded blow across Batman's face. This caused Batman to stumble back a step, his arms pulling away from the two swords they had been blocking.

By the time the Dark Knight recovered his balance, there was a clash of metal as Shiva and Deathstroke attacked each other, their blades colliding with each other. Faster than his eyes could keep up, all Batman could see was a blur around the two assassins as their swords bounced each other and they countered. Their blades clashed against each other over and over, each collision ringing out into the night air.

And then Shiva adjusted her her next strike. It was so minute, Batman nearly missed it. Instead of attacking with full force, she lessened it, her sword ending up being pushed back as it hit Deathstroke's. This, in turn, caused Deathstroke to lean further forward than he expected.

In a flash, Shiva parried her foe's attack and had an opening right for his head. Immediately, Batman lunged towards the two combatants, dropping low at the last moment as he leaned backwards. Swinging a leg, he landed a kick to the back of Deathstroke's knee, causing it to buckle and throw the assassin backwards. Even as Deathstroke cried out, his sudden backward lunged allowed him to avoid being decapitated as the tip of Shiva's sword barely missed his nose.

Though he was on one leg, Batman pushed down with it, springing upward while throwing his right fist towards Shiva. In response, the dark-haired woman jerked her sword arm back, allowing her to block his punch with her forearm. Leaning away from him, she brought her leg up before snapping it at him.

Twisting his body to one side, Shiva's foot grazed his side, something that made Batman grunt, but then immediate forced his left arm down, pinning her leg to his side. Relaxing his right hand, he then grabbed onto Shiva's arm, then spun to a side, dragging his opponent up into the air before throwing her through the air. Though he doubt such a move would get rid of Shiva, it at least got her off of the shipping container they were on, the woman sailing passed the edge and then falling towards the ground below.

That's when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Jerking backwards, Batman barely avoided a charging Deathstroke as he thrust his sword at him. The blade passed right in front of him, to which the vigilante dropped his arms his body down and then swing outward and up, knocking the sword up into the air. Bending his left arm, he then lunged towards his other foe, ramming his elbow into Deathstroke's face.

Head jerking back, Deathstroke suddenly went into a backwards fall, though the reason for this was so that he could swing a leg upward, landing a kick to Batman's side. The two men separated from each other, Batman stepping a couple steps backwards, ending up right at the edge of the shipping container, and Deathstroke shooting one hand to press down on the metal surface and going into a one-handed flip, ending up on his feet a moment later.

However, that's when Deathstroke shot his non-sword hand up, revealing it to be holding a handgun, which he pointed right at the Dark Knight. Before he could fire, Shiva suddenly reappeared, her sword slicing right through the gun, causing to barrel to fall off as gunpowder exploded outward. Though her profile was to her foe, this didn't stop Shiva from stopping her sword slash in mid-stroke, rotating it so that the edge was facing Deathstroke. Immediately, she performed a side-slashed.

Immediately, her strike was blocked as Deathstroke's sword darted in front of Shiva's blade. Without hesitating, the assassin lashed out with the remains of his gun, aiming to slam the butt on the handle against Shiva's head. In response, she shot a hand up and caught Deathstroke's arm at the wrist, the two assassins effectively stopping each other.

"You're as good as I've heard," Deathstroke suddenly complimented, the larger man looking down on his foe.

"I must say the same to you," Shiva returned, not having once lost the bemused look on her face.

"I wonder how long you can keep this up, though. I'm just starting to have some fun."

Through all of this, Batman held his ground. Though he was tempted to attack, the two combatants were currently keeping themselves at bay. One movement, one twitch, one adjustment would break the stalemate.

And he hated to admit it, but trying to keep these two from killing each other was tiring.

That was when Deathstroke and Shiva pulled away from each other, taking a couple steps away before they began to circle each other. Almost casually, Deathstroke tossed the remains of his gun at his foe, the dark-haired woman leaning her head to one side to avoid it hitting her in the face.

Arm moving faster then, Deathstroke had his formerly gun-holding hand at his side before throwing it out again. This time, he had a grenade in hand, his thumb jerking out the pin. With one fluid motion, he tossed the grenade underhand, the explosive flying towards its target.

By then, Batman had leaped into action. Throwing himself forward, he tackled Shiva from behind, launching them over the edge of the shipping container they stood on as they fell to the ground.

A moment later and the grenade exploded in a bright, powerful blast. The force of the explosion slammed into the vigilante's back, sending him—and subsequently Shiva—flipping head over feet. They ended up with Batman landing on his back on the ground, Shiva on top of him.

They didn't stay that way for long. Even as the air in Batman's lungs was knocked out of him, Shiva was already on the move, throwing her legs up into the air. Slipping out from his embrace, she flipped off of the vigilante, her feet coming down just above his head. As he sucked in a breath, the Dark Knight saw his former teacher kneeling above him, right arm drawn back with her fingers curled back, palm prominent.

_The Leopard Blow._

In a blur of movement, the two combatant threw their arms towards each other. The next thing either of them knew, Batman somehow had his hand wrapped around Shiva's forearm, stopping her killing strike mere inches from his face.

As if that wasn't enough, Deathstroke came leaping off the shipping container, dropping through the air as he held his sword upside down with both hands, its tip aimed right for Batman's chest.

Immediately, he rolled to a side as he released his hold on Shiva. A moment later and Deathstroke landed right where he had been laying, his sword sliding into the ground like a knife through butter.

However, this left him wide open. Drawing back the same hand had she had used to strike at the vigilante, Shiva redirected it, slamming it right into Deathstroke's chest, the force of the blow sending the man flying backwards through the air. Because of his grip on his sword, he pulled it out of the ground even as he flew backwards, landing on the ground several feet away.

Ending up on his knees and hands, Batman pushed himself up onto his feet, using the shipping container next to him to help balance himself. By the time he was fully standing, he found himself jerking back a step as Shiva had suddenly closed the distance between them. Standing on one leg, she lashed out with her other, her foot slamming right into the metal container where the dark-clad man's hand had been, leaving a large dent from where her foot had hit.

Immediately drawing it back, she kicked her foot out again, this time successfully hitting the Dark Knight in the shoulder, causing him to flinch back from the blow. Keeping her leg extended, she then bent it at the the knee, causing her foot to draw back before she snapped it back. She landed her kick to the vigilante's chest, which had the effect of sending him stumbling backwards, spinning around as he did so.

This led him right to Deathstroke, the assassin still lying on the ground. However, he saw the Dark Knight stumbling towards him and was not against striking at him. Sword still in hand, he swung it outwardly.

Seeing himself in a bad situation, Batman did the only thing he could think of and that was haphazardly leaping off the ground. Extending a hand out, he managed to catch hold of Deathstroke's arm, stopping the sword swing from cutting him in half.

That was when Shiva leaped back into the action, literally. Running at a shipping container, she sprung up into the air, planting one foot on the side of the metal crate and launched herself higher into the air. Drawing her sword above her head, she then swung it down in time for her to begin falling towards the two men.

Having heard her ricocheting off the container, Batman twisted his body and head in time to see the dark-haired woman careening towards him. Reaching out with his other hand, he miraculously managed to stop Shiva's sword strike, his hand grabbing onto her forearm much like he had Deathstroke's.

For a moment, it seemed as if time froze. Batman hovered in midair, his arms stretched out as his hands firmly held off Deathstroke and Shiva's swords. It didn't matter whether he was stopping them from cutting him, or each other, into pieces.

And then his momentum kicked in. Flying over Deathstroke even as he used the man's own arm as a ballast, Batman swung his other arm, allow him to throw Shiva through the air. Releasing his grip on both assassins, the Dark Knight ended up falling head first towards the ground, where he went into a roll just before impact. In one fluid movement, he went from landing on his upper back to rolling down his entire back on the ground to standing on his feet.

By then, Shiva had landed as well, her legs crouched beneath her as she placed one hand on the ground to steady her, her sword arm extended out to her side, holding her sword horizontal to the ground. On the other side of the vigilante, Deathstroke was also back on his feet, hunched over as he held his sword before him, the tip pointed to the two rivals.

"Impressive recovery, Detective," Shiva complimented him, looking much like a cat ready to pounce. "You're holding your own better than anticipated."

All the while, Batman glanced from Shiva to Deathstroke and back. His cape was wrapped around his body all the while, hiding him from sight. It created an unknown in this fight, one neither of the assassins would risk attacking him, or their opposite until they knew how to respond.

Once more they were at a stalemate.

For Batman, he had no inclination to keep standing between two of the world's deadliest assassins. He needed to put an end to the fight sooner rather than later. He was already using his reserves, so the amount of time he had left in the fight was limited.

He needed to change the playing field.

Pulling a smoke pellet out of a pouch, Batman then threw his cape wide open even as he thrust a hand high above his head. Throwing it downward, he then sent the smoke pellet right into the ground, where it exploded into a large cloud of smoke.

* * *

If there was ever an issue cover for this chapter, it's of Batman holding Shiva and Deathstroke off as he trying to stop them from killing each other and himself. I've had that image of the three squaring off in my head for some time and wanted to include it in the fight somewhere. I think I found the right spot for it.

To FlackAttack: He's always had a flair for the theatrics lol

To Guest: Oh, he knows her as evidenced by the flashback scene at the beginning of chapter. He knows what she's all about


	23. The Demon's Truce

At first she wasn't sure if she heard it right. Her ears had to be playing tricks. She didn't understand a word and her brain interpreted in a way the message wasn't meant to.

As Cassandra stared at the serious look on Zatanna's face, she began to doubt these comforting denials. Though the dark-haired woman was upbeat and friendly, she never struck the younger girl as someone to play a cruel joke. What she had just said would have been the cruelest of jokes if that was indeed the case.

She hadn't expected to hear this news. She had expected some important message with the way the woman whisked her away from the Network before they went out on their patrols. She had figured it was meant for her ears only the way Zatanna took her to this unused room, a couple chairs the only pieces of furniture in it.

Now though, she understood why she was encouraged to take a seat.

"That child," she spoke slowly, as if trying to fit this new information into her head, "is..._his_ child?"

Zatanna slowly nodded her head. "That's what the 'mother' is claiming. I have my doubts, but Bruce seems to think it's true."

It...it couldn't be. Yet, Cassandra's mind flashed back to that young pest's face and she examined everything she could remember of him. Already she could pick out all the similarities, the boy's features being nothing more than a younger version of her father's. She didn't want to admit it, even hated to entertain the thought, but the resemblance was too much too ignore.

How long had Batman known of this kid? Nothing escaped his noticed so he had to know. Why hadn't reached out to him before now? Was there a reason? Cassandra didn't have any trouble thinking of any right off the bat. The boy was rude, arrogant, and insulting. Was it possible Batman wanted nothing to do with him?

If that was the case, then he would have made that known. Zatanna would say as much. Just looking at the older woman, Cassandra doubted this fanciful thought. "What...what does he think of this?" she hesitantly asked.

"He seems stunned by this" she answered. "He was in daze before we parted, but he didn't want this hidden from you."

So he was acting like he didn't know? And he wanted her to know? Cassandra wasn't sure how to feel about this. Already, she was certain she didn't like the brat. If any of his words to her were any indication, then he wanted her place in the Manor. Cassandra couldn't help but tighten a hand into a fist. Like hell she would give that up. She was wanted in her father's house. He had adopted her and everything.

And yet, despite that thought, she coudln't help but wonder if Batman would have gone through with the adoption if he had known of the boy. Would he want her as part of his family? Would she still be Cassandra Cain rather than Cassandra Wayne?

A hand touched her shoulder then, squeezing comfortably. Pulling her head out of her thoughts, the girl saw Zatanna leaning towards her from her seat, a comforting look on her face. "This is a lot to take in."

The younger girl slowly nodded her agreement. "Yes, it is." A pause. "What...what does he plan to do?"

"With the boy? I don't know. I know he'll want to get to know the child, but I'm sure there will be a price that witch will want from him. Whether he'll pay that toll is another matter all together."

"You know him well. Better than me. Do you think he'll do it?" she pressed.

Zatanna shrugged her shoulders. "I know he won't make a decision right now. If Bruce is one thing, it's that he won't jump to an impulsive decision. He's going to think this through before he even approaches Talia al Ghul."

"Do you think he'll want this kid in his house? Do you think he'll want him as his family rather than-"

A stern look appeared on the dark-haired woman's face and she immediately cut Cassandra off. "Bruce didn't just adopt you just to kick you to the curb when another kid pops up. That's not the man he is."

That...was nice to hear. Cassandra really wanted to believe that so very much.

So why was it she was having doubts?

* * *

A shipping container was held suspended high above the docks. A dock worker had raised it up into the air with the crane, but then left it hanging. It was from here Batman surveyed the maze of shipping containers below.

Even now his smoke cloud was dissipating. Deathstroke and Shiva had both taken the opportunity to remove themselves from their fight, seeking an advantage over each other. Batman had used that moment to grapple up to his current perch, keeping an eye on both of them.

The problem came in that both were considered to be the best of the best and there was good reason for that. Both had vanished and even now he was trying to locate them. While this was a major problem, it was a more acceptable alternative to the stalemate they had been in, with him caught in the middle as the two assassins tried to decide whether to ignore him, or cut him up on their way to the other.

Beneath his feet, he felt the hanging container tilt. It was slight, something that could have been easily written off to the wind causing it to sway. There was even a low groaning sound, the crane's cable creaking from the slight movement. However, Batman was not one to make such an assumption. Jerking his head around, he saw Shiva towards one end of the shipping container, rising up to her full height from a crouch.

"Around and around we go, no victor in sight," she remarked, her tone seemingly as if she were commenting on the weather. "You're holding up better than I thought you would."

Placing his weight on the balls of his feet, he pivoted so that his body turned to face the dark-haired woman, remaining crouched as his cape continued to envelop him. Even now she was able to read his body language, so the less he showed, the better. Not that it would make much difference since rarely did the same trick work on her.

"The Terminator is undoubtedly scouting for a prime strike point," Shiva continued, undeterred by his silence. "That will keep him busy, though no doubt he will seek the top of this crane eventually; especially once he sees us up here."

"What are you doing in Gotham, Shiva?" Batman growled lowly.

An eyebrow raised on the woman's face. "What? No Lady? No honorific? I'm hurt, Detective."

Then she laughed, unable to maintain her mock pout. "You should already know the answer to your question. It isn't that hard to come to the conclusion. Ra's asked for my presence and I acquiscented to it. Now, if you are wondering why I entered the fight between you and Deathstroke, that was out of pure interest. I have always wanted to match fists with someone of his caliber of fighter. It makes for the best spice in life."

Yet, she had attempted killing blows against the Dark Knight as well. "And I'm just getting in your way?"

"Well...somewhat. You are interfering, but I find your wildcard exhilarating. Whenever one of us gets the upper hand, you turn that upside down. Whether you continue to remain as such is entirely up to you."

And then she was darting towards the vigilante, arching her sword above her head as she went for a head shot. Immediately, Batman shot up to his full height even as his arms emerged from beneath his cape, crossing into an X above him. Shiva's sword collided with his high block, settling right at the valley formed by his forearms.

However, Batman knew what was coming next. Even as he felt the pressure of the blade leave his arms, the vigilante thrust his arms downward. Moving one hand to press on the back of the other, he reinforced his low block, his joined hands arriving just in time as Shiva placed all weight on one leg and raised the other. She immediately sent a front snap kick at him, which he blocked as the palm of his bottom hand collided with her shin, knocking her foot downward and preventing her kick from hitting him.

Her extended leg immediately went with its new, changed direction and slapped down on the metal container. Leaning forward, Shiva swung her sword, a high, downward, diagonal strike. Instantly, Batman had threw one of his arms up, blocking the blade with his triangle blades.

Undeterred, Shiva pulled her sword back, only to swing up over her head, then down on her opposite side, attempting a side slash. This too Batman blocked, using his other arm, which caused him to look much like a boxer with his arms raised.

That was when Shiva went into an all-out onslaught. Back and forth, she attacked from both sides, swinging her sword at all angles. Each strike was successfully stopped as Batman raised and lowered his arms to adjust to the different attacks.

And then his opponent changed things up. Kicking out with one of her legs, she swung it low and landed a kick to his lower leg, knocking off his balance. Eyes widening, Batman then instinctively leaned backwards even as he pushed as hard as he could against the metal surface beneath him. This caused him to begin a back flip, one in which he drew up his previously kicked leg up.

By then, Shiva was beginning another sword strike. Lashing out with his drawn leg, the bottom of his boot collided with Shiva's sword, stopping it before it got enough force to allow it to slice cleanly through his body. This forced the assassin to stumble back a step even as the Dark Knight sprung off the blocked sword, swinging both of his legs upwards, his world spinning.

And then he completed his flip, landing further down the shipping container. The force in which he landed caused one end to dip lower while the opposite end raised upward. This had the unintended effect of Shiva beginning to slide down towards him. Not one to leave herself vulnerable though, Shiva moved her sword to where she held it at shoulder-height and to one side, the sword's tip pointed right at him. It was clear she was going to attempt a thrust the moment she was within range.

So Batman sprung backwards again, once more going to a back flip. However, this time he flipped over the edge of the container, his legs swinging down underneath him just as he began falling to the ground below.

The moment he was right-side up though, he had a bat-shaped shuriken in hand. Throwing out his arm, he threw the projectile, sending it whirling through the air.

Shiva reached the end of the container at that point, immediately jerking herself backwards to avoid the shuriken. Batman had expected as much, but she had never been his target. Four large chains were attacked to the four corners of the container and extended upwards to a wench above it. It was this wench he had been aiming for and his shuriken collided with it, sparks bursting into the air as metal scrape against metal.

And as he intended, the wench opened, releasing the supporting chains. Immediately, the shipping container began dropping to the ground, taking Shiva with it. The large metal box flew passed the vigilante even as he reached out to his cape, activating its glider mode. His fall stopped as he suddenly changed directions, sailing through the air.

Looking down, he just caught sight of Shiva leaping off of the falling container. As her descent reached the tops of the stacked shipping containers, the dark-haired woman somersaulted off the one she stood on, landing with both feet on the topmost container. She immediately sprung off of that one as she went into a flip, an attempt to kill off the momentum she had gathered from her sudden drop. It was during this flip that the falling shipping container crashed down on top of two containers, a loud _BANG!_ echoing out into the night. Bouncing off of them, the shipping container tumbled off of the two it had landed on, hitting everything it possible could before it haphazardly crashed on the ground.

Landing on a lower level of shipping containers, Shiva was still not done jumping. Going into another somersault, she went to her right as she went to land on another, lower level of containers.

However, that's when Deathstroke suddenly reappeared. Flying through the air, leaning backwards with one leg extended out, he landed a flying kick to the underside of Shiva's chin, snapping her head back.

Ever since he had met her, Batman had known Shiva to be in full control of herself, never once having been taken by surprise. Every fall she had taken had always been defensive, so she minimized the damage received.

And now she was tumbling out of control, landing on top of a shipping container, her shoulder taking the brunt of the landing. The force in which she hit sent her skidding across the smooth, metal surface until she slid over the edge, falling to the ground below.

Deathstroke, in the meantime, had landed on his feet and rushed towards the edge, leaping off the container after his fallen foe. As Batman watched, he had to angle his body so that he turned, keeping both assassins in sight. He leaned downwards to begin his descent, closing the distance slowly, but surely.

Meanwhile, Deathstroke had drawn a leg back from where he stood by Shiva's fallen form. Swinging it, he had timed his kick damn near perfectly. Having ended up on her back, Shiva was lashing out wildly with her sword to stave off further attack. The toe of Deathstroke's boot collided with the side of the blade, the force of the kick knocking the weapon out of Shiva's grip and sending it clattering away.

Immediately, Shiva shot her hands down to the ground, attempting to push herself up. Deathstroke, however, stopped his swinging leg and jerked it back, the heel of his boot nailing the dark-haired woman against her face. Shiva was forced back to the ground even as Deathstroke planted his extended foot down, allowing him to face his foe. Drawing his sword up, he held it to one side, the hilt hovering by his head, the tip pointed down to the woman.

Batman was too far to stop it, even if he had wanted to. Helplessly, he watched as Deathstroke thrust his sword down.

What happened next was miraculous. Though she was lying on her side on the ground, somehow, Shiva's legs suddenly swung upwards, even as her upper body maneuvered so that she had her arms pressed on the ground, allowing her to go into a handstand. Her legs shot upwards and wrapped around Deathstroke's sword arm, stopping the weapon's descend cold.

Then in one fluid movement, Shiva's body twisted, her legs forcing Deathstroke to a side and then downwards. The next thing Batman knew, Shiva was standing on the ground, somehow with Deathstroke's sword in her hand. He had no idea how she had managed that, but there she was, holding a reverse grip on the handle. Meanwhile, Deathstroke was going into a roll on the ground, ending up on his feet as he shot up to his full height, his back to a shipping container.

Drawing the sword back, Shiva then threw it, sending it flying like a spear. Seeing this, Deathstroke jerked to one side, turning his head to follow the sword as it passed by his head. Like a hot knife through butter, the sword pierced into the shipping container and slid all the way up until the hilt was all that was left sticking out.

Rapidly closing the distance now, Batman began leaning backwards as he released his hold on his cape, the cloth immediately going slack. Extending both legs in front of him, Batman's momentum allowed him to fly the remaining distance between him and Deathstroke.

As the assassin's head snapped back to face Shiva, he got a good look at the bottom of Batman's boots just before they slammed into his face, the force of the blow banging the back of his head against the shipping container. Springing off the one-eyed man's head, the vigilante went into a back flip, landing on the ground before a stunned Deathstroke. This also placed the dark-clad man between the Terminator and Shiva.

So he did the one thing he knew would give Shiva pause from attacking him or Deathstroke at this most vulnerable moment. Moving his right hand towards his hip, his fingers curled back and exposed his palm. With his Leopard Blow ready, he lunged towards Deathstroke, thrusting his right hand upward.

His palm collided with the underside of Deathstroke's chin, forcing his head to jerk backward again. And again, his head slammed into the shipping container behind him; however, the force he had been hit with was greater than the flying kick. In an instant, Deathstroke's body went limp before he collapsed to the ground, lying there in prone and helpless.

By the time the assassin was lying unconscious, Batman had spun around, cape whirling around him as he faced Shiva. The dark-haired woman had taken up a relaxed, defensive stance, seeming to back away half a step. Her dark eyes stared into the vigilante, only once glancing to Deathstroke, then back to him.

"That was a well-executed Leopard Blow," she congratulated him. "And yet, he still lives. How do you managed to screw that up, Detective?"

"Whoever said I screwed up?" he countered.

This caused Shiva to narrow her eyes at him. "You mean to tell me you intended on knocking him out? I must say, that disappoints me."

"If you intend on finishing him off, you're going to have to go through me first," Batman warned her.

"Oh, believe me, I intend to."

That was when another voice called out, causing both combatant's to freeze where they stood. "That's enough!"

Jerking his head upwards, Batman saw standing on the tallest stack of shipping containers was Ra's al Ghul, his green cloak enveloping him even as it ruffled in the wind. Shiva merely tilted her head to eye the ancient man, heeding his words nonetheless.

* * *

"Ugh. I'm feeling that tomorrow morning."

As wood and sheetrock fell off of him, Green Arrow was able to pull himself out of the debris. The last thing he remembered, he could hear Batman yelling for him and Black Canary to—

_Dinah!_

A surge of adrenaline beat back the grogginess that typically came with a concussion—oh great, he had one of those too—and he was quick to begin searching for any sign of the Pretty Bird. That explosion had come out of nowhere and knocked everything for a loop. He could only pray that it wasn't a lethal loop.

Smoke continued to pour out of the giant hole in the side of the warehouse, forcing the Emerald Archer to put an air filter over his mouth so as to not breathe in too much of the carbon monoxide, along with anything else nasty that might be mixed in. While he hoped that Dinah was blasted out of the building, his luck warned him that chances were greater that she was still in there.

He was going to find her first and make sure her pretty face wasn't damaged.

Rushing into the damaged warehouse, he found the remains of everything else littering the place. What had once been crates were now oversized splinters. Whatever the contents inside the crates, good luck figuring out what they had been. How strong had that bomb been?

Regardless, he picked through as much as he could, pushing aside anything big enough and that didn't crumble in his hands. His eyes watered from the irritation from all the smoke. Yet he pressed forward because this was not how he wanted a relationship to end. _Where was she?_ Where was_ she?_

Finding an area where some of the warehouse's contents had managed to survive, Green Arrow began to poke around, pushing away more and more singed wood until—

A cough and a lovely, _lovely_ blonde head looked up at him. Her eyes gave away that she was dazed, probably concussed too, but damn it, she was alive! Crouching down and placing his hands on her, to make sure she was real, the Star City vigilante couldn't help but feel a powerful surge of relief. She was alive. Alive!

"Let's get you out of this coal mine, shall we?" he said as he kneeled down next to her, throwing in a joke while he was at it. Sorry, but the dark and grim act was already taken.

Suddenly, he was on alert, his body tensing up and spinning around. His hands clapped together, catching an arrow and stopping it mere inches from his person. The _thwipping_ sound that arrows were known to make had been unconsciously detected long before he had acted. They weren't alone in here and—

Wait, what was that cylinder attached to the end of—!

He threw the arrow as far away from them as he could, turning back around to try and cover up Black Canary as the small bomb detonated. That sudden blast lit up the area with fire, the force of the explosion washing over the archer. Fortunately, it seemed like he had managed to throw the arrow far away enough that he had got the both of them out of the worst of the blast range.

The din of the explosion was barely over and done with, and the green archer was back on his feet, bow and arrow ready for some action. He already knew they weren't alone in here because there was only one other person in the city who also used the same weapon as him.

"Alright Merlyn, I'm putting an end to this shit. Come out and let's do this!" he shouted.

Instead of being able to fire an arrow of his own, the Star City native found himself twisting to the side, possibly pulling a muscle in his back while he was at it, and blocked an incoming arrow with the handle of his bow. He was barely able to see a figure dart off, Merlyn obviously, which left him on guard and pissed.

Why pissed? Because he had ruined the bow's grip, that's why! Sure, it was only a hole and wouldn't have any real effect on his use of the weapon, but when he pulled the arrow out, he noticed the barbed edges on the arrow head that made him grimace. It was the look and a hole in the grip just screamed that you didn't take care of it.

Buster was really asking for this asskicking now.

Going into a run, he used the smoke that continued to smoulder to hide his movements. Raising a hand to the mask he wore, he applied pressure on the edge of it and the layout of the area changed. Infrared mode activated, and while heat lingered in the air and definitely on the floor, with some creativity, he was able to—there!

Nearly unconsciously, he had aimed and fired an arrow of his own, fully expecting the Dark Archer to dodge it. The vigilante wasn't wrong, but having expected this, he was firing off several more arrows to keep the bastard on his toes. When Merlyn ducked for cover behind a remaining stack of crates, Green Arrow shot up at the roof with his specialized grapple arrow.

While it wasn't as compact as some of the other grapples the Gotham vigilantes used, this one was designed with enough thickness to it to hold the little mechanics and gears that would allow him to be pulled up without needing to strain his body. Gripping the accompanying cable, he allowed himself to be pulled up into the air, practically soaring over the surviving crates.

Letting go, the Emerald Archer allowed himself to fall, dropping down practically on top of Merlyn. The assassin was not ready for this kind of attack, and down onto the floor he went.

Quickly catching his balance before he ended up like Merlyn, Green Arrow aimed an arrow at his opponent. Just as he was releasing his grip on the projectile, a booted foot kicked up and threw off his aim, the arrow tip piercing into the floor next to the Dark Archer's head. As a side note, that part of the man's body wasn't what the vigilante was aiming for.

Instead of notching another arrow, the bearded vigilante stomped a foot down on dark clad man's bow to prevent it from being lifted up and being notched itself. With his other foot, he landed a kick into the side of Merlyn's head, though the assassin somehow rolled with it to get onto his stomach. As a result, the bow-wielding killer had to leave behind his weapon, but that didn't mean he was helpless.

Promptly on his feet, Merlyn was practically a black blur as he lunged at Green Arrow, an arrow in each hand, which he sliced with like they were knives. The Emerald Archer jerked back to avoided the slashes, simultaneously kicking away Merlyn's bow, the weapon clattering away.

Blocking one slash, Green Arrow landed a jab into the Dark Archer's face. He followed the blow by ducking, his neck bending as an arrow stabbed at his bearded jaw. He swung a fist up and into the assassin's elbow, forcing the arm into an awkward position. Slipping his other arm around his enemy's bent one, the vigilante yanked down on it, pulling Merlyn over his shoulder and throwing him back onto the floor.

His teeth visibly clenched, Merlyn reached up and grabbed the bearded man's arm and pulled down, kicking his legs up to wrap around the vigilante's neck. As the Dark Archer's shins pressed into either side of Arrow's neck, he had to admit that this was not comfortable through a gagging choke.

Throughout the earlier grapple, he had somehow managed to hold on to his own bow, but right not it was a bit unwieldy. Dropping it, a part of him screaming at the mistreatment, he clenched his hand into a tight fist and rammed it into the side of one of Merlyn's knees. The assassin actually gave out a yell of pain, and his snaking leg hold weakened further when the vigilante landed a second blow to the joint.

As the traumatized knee bent, he gave Green Arrow enough room to tear his head out of the hold. Crouching, he darted away, snatching up his bow. Meanwhile, Merlyn threw his legs back and up, going into a roll though he was much slower to get into a crouched position.

By then, the vigilante was spinning on his heel, an arrow notched and a split second later fired. The assassin performed a bastardized roll, dodging the projectile and slipping into a limping run. Predictably, the dark-clad man was heading in the direction of his discarded bow; Green Arrow was tempted to roll his eyes at the obviousness of such a move.

Instead, he whipped out three arrows and notched them all, aiming at Merlyn's back. However, he didn't firing immediately, instead waiting, waiting...waiting…

Merlyn, slowed down by his knee, reached his bow and snatched it up, already pulling out an arrow of his own and notching it. He was too late; the vigilante had fired his three and to his shame, one missed. The other two, on the other hand, hit their targets. The first, and most important, struck and tore into the bowstring, the tension in the string causing a whip like _twang_ and a yelp from Merlyn when the upper portion snapped against his face. The second sliced into the man's belt; Green Arrow figured that Merlyn would have some goodies stowed away on it, and separating the assassin from it could only be a good thing.

A shame that third arrow missed…

"You!" Merlyn snarled, glaring at him. What, was that it? Just "you?" Nothing else? So much for some originality from him. Maybe the guy was pissed that he wasn't having a good time. That was his problem since Green Arrow was having a wonderful one.

"Yeah, yeah, save it—" the vigilante began to mock only to jerk to aside. Apparently he hadn't taken away all of Merlyn's tricks because a rather sharp knife sliced through the air and almost rammed into his eye socket. The blade whistled by, and a sensation not unlike ice water pouring down his body, well, poured down his body. Yeah, a nasty reminder—

And that fist was making friends with his face now. Despite the knee, it looked like Merlyn could move when he needed to. Either that or rage was keeping whatever pain he felt at bay. Before Green Arrow could recover, though, a second punch snapped his head to a side and then a knee to his stomach had him bending over, air escaping from his lungs.

Alright so now _he_ wasn't having a good time.

An uppercut had him almost falling backwards, but the bearded vigilante was able to keep his balance. Whether that was a good thing remained to be seen as the Dark Archer and slipped around him and wrapped an arm around his throat. Grabbing at the arm, he tried to pry it away only to see the arrow in Merlyn's other hand stabbing towards him. Dropping his bow, he caught the assassin's lower arm, just stopping the arrow inches from his face.

But now he struggled to hold it back, even as Merlyn squeezed his arms against his neck. This was not a good spot to be in.

"I'll make a new string out of your hide," Merlyn snarled into his ear.

"No...thank you," Green Arrow croaked out. Let it not be said that a lack of air would ever keep him from making a quip.

As the two men struggle against one another, one to kill and the other to resist, it seemed like a stalemate had taken hold. Green Arrow knew, though, that he was on borrowed time. His lungs were starting to burn from the reduced amount of air he could breathe in and his arm was starting to tremble as it resisted Merlyn.

Without warning, Merlyn gave a out cry and something whooshed behind his head. Whatever it was, it weakened Merlyn's chokehold enough that Green Arrow was able to slip his head out and away from danger. What sounded like a hit followed and as the Star City crime fighter spun around, he could see he had found salvation—or was it the other way around?—as Black Canary had finished off a roundhouse kick that had pushed Merlyn back. The blonde woman was glaring at the assassin, seemingly not in the mood for any banter.

She was still hot as hell and a very welcomed sight, though.

Then without preamble, she began to open her mouth.

A loud shriek pierced the night and a portion of a wall blasted out. Through the debris, Merlyn was rammed backwards and out of the building, his trip ending as his body slammed into the side of a truck, denting it severely.

With eyes wide open, and a gasping choke escaping him, the assassin remained stuck in the dented vehicle for a moment before slumping and falling down to the pavement below where he collapsed into a broken heap.

* * *

This was bad. Already, Batman was tired from fighting both Deathstroke and Shiva. There was no sign of Black Canary or Green Arrow anywhere either. For all he knew, they had been caught up in the warehouse explosion. Regardless, Ra's al Ghul had stepped into this battle.

He wasn't sure how much more he could take.

"Lady Shiva," Ra's called out. "I must ask that you stand down. The Detective and I must talk."

Batman blinked his eyes, though the action was concealed by his cowl. What had Ra's just asked?

Shiva relaxed her posture, straightening herself to her full height. She didn't seem the least bit insulted by the older man's request. "If that is your request, then so be it. I don't see how rewarding it will be to fight an opponent that hesitates to kill."

Ra's inclined his head, acknowledging her words. "I thank you, sincerely."

Shiva then spun around on her heels and began to saunter away, not paying Batman, or the fallen Deathstroke, the least bit of mind. Her shadow stretched far behind her as the distance between her and the vigilante grew wider and wider.

All that left was the Demon's Head.

"I must admit, I hadn't expected your return, Detective," Ra's called back out to him, causing Batman to return his attention to the older man. "I was certain Bane had crippled you."

Batman's eyes narrowed. "What are you doing in Gotham, Ra's? Why did you cross half the globe to come here?"

"Would you believe it was to uphold your legacy?"

No, he didn't. Ra's had any number of bases and hideouts all over the world. The only reason he would be here was because he wanted something, or had plans for the city. The last time he had intended to destroy the city when he blew up the Lazarus pits. Though it was one of many pits, the end result would have been the same.

"I do find that hard to believe," he responded after a moment.

The corner of Ra's mouth twitched up. "I find your skepticism refreshing. It has been far too long since another has dared to contradict me."

"Then why don't you tell me why you're really here."

Ra's straightened out his posture. "I must admit, I did have mechanizations for this city. However, there have been some unexpected losses, ones that can be overcome, but nonetheless time consuming. Yet, I have accomplished what you could not in stymieing Bane's takeover of your precious city."

Batman ignored the jab. It was just as he thought, Ra's wanted to use Gotham for one of his genocidal plans, whatever it may be. While he had been removed from the scene, the older man had attempted to take advantage, only for the chaos of the city to prevent him from taking over, much like it had for Bane.

"I want you gone, Ra's. Gotham is under _my _protection," he growled back.

Ra's raised an eyebrow at his hostility. "You will have to prove yourself capable of such a feat first, Detective. Since I have arrived, there has been much you have overlooked that I have rectified. The Court of Owls is no more, along with the serial killer Zsasz."

Meaning he had them executed. Batman couldn't help clenching his fists beneath his cape from anger.

"However, more alarming was the presence of blood magic."

That caused the vigilante to frown. Though he had little experience in the area, he knew of Ra's distaste for such magics. The man had clearly made his opinion known whenever he had heard of such a ritual being performed. Honestly, he couldn't blame the man either.

"It is my understanding that your witch friend is one of your allies within the city. I am more than willing to call a temporary truce in order to fill you in on this organization." Moving one of his hands out from under his cloak, Ra's then tossed a white envelope out, the envelope flipping around in the air before it landed on the ground by Batman's feet. "This should be seen as a sign of my good faith in this matter."

"Say that I believe you," the Dark Knight said after awhile. "How would I get back in touch with you?"

"I will give you the rest of the night to confirm with your associates," Ra's answered. "There is an address included in the envelop I have given you. I will be at that location tomorrow night. I expect to see you there."

Then without waiting for a response, Ra's turned around, his cloak flaring out around him before he disappeared from sight. This left Batman all by himself, an envelope at his feet and a still-unconscious Deathstroke. He would make sure the latter was in police custody shortly, though special measures would have to be taken to ensure the assassin didn't automatically break out.

In the meantime, Batman knelt down and snatched up the white envelope, opening it to find a series of photographs inside. Pulling them out, he began to rifle through them, stopping on one particularly alarming image.

_What the hell?_

* * *

To FlackAttack: I hope he acquitted himself. It definitely helps that the super soldier and the warrior were going after each other two instead of straight up double-teaming him


	24. Intervention

"You did _what?"_ Batgirl growled.

Batman sat before the rest of the Network, the full roster present. This included a dirty and exhausted looking Black Canary and Green Arrow.

And yet, Batgirl's full attention was on him. That probably had much to do with him informing the whole group that not one, but two of Bane's hired assassins had been defeated. While he had been tied up with Deathstroke, Canary and Arrow had their hands full with Merlyn. Between the two of them, they had defeated the Black Archer and now both assassins were in custody.

And yet, Batman had the feeling it wasn't the results that had his daughter infuriated. A glance to Zatanna told him the magician was full of disapproval as well. When he didn't respond, Batgirl summed up what he said, "You fought one of the most dangerous assassins _on your own?_"

_Two, actually_. He thought that response rather than said that out loud. Now wasn't time for that confession. "There wasn't much choice," he decided to settle on. "The three of us walked into a trap and were separated. Even if I wanted to call in help, none of you could have made it in time."

"Which you wouldn't have anyways!" Batgirl shouted at him as she shot out of her chair, nearly knocking it over. The rest of the Network was just watching the two of them, a couple of the younger ones with wide eyes. All of them were wise to stay out of this. "You never ask for help!"

Zatanna then waved a hand at them. "And I know magic, in case you've forgotten. I can literally teleport anyone."

His errant daughter seized upon those words instantly. "So you didn't call in help because you didn't want to, not because you couldn't." She was glaring at him, her mask contorting to emphasize her anger.

"She's got you there," Zana added.

"Regardless, that's two less threats on the streets," Batman returned evenly. It seemed the heated dynamic between the three of them was spilling out from the private confines of the Cave and into the public sphere. Fortunately the others wouldn't speak to him like the two women before him were, at least not for the moment. "And there are other matters that need to be brought up."

"Like your inability to take care of yourself?" Batgirl shot back snidely.

At this, the dark-clad man leveled her with a glare, one that clearly said this wasn't the time for this squabble. "Ra's al Ghul arrived shortly after Deathstroke was defeated."

There was a slight flinch from the girl, though whether it was because she realized she had misspoken, or from some other reason, he didn't know. He did notice Zatanna perking up as her expression darken. As for the others, they all shifted in their seats, their full attentions on him.

"You mean that old stiff actually showed himself out in the open?" Huntress asked, eagerly leaning forward in her seat. "None of us has seen him since he arrived on the scene. What was he doing at the docks?"

"He wanted to talk to me while calling off his own assassin."

"Own assassin?" Zatanna repeated as she raised an eyebrow. "There was someone else you were fighting?" At her side, Batgirl was bristling at those words, though she stayed quiet.

Well crap, it seemed the cat was out of the bag. Taking a deep breath, he released it as a sigh. "To say this is an assassin in Ra's employ is misleading. Lady Shiva is no one's pawn; she's her own agent and fights where she wishes."

Black Canary frowned. "You mean she isn't loyal to this Ra's guy? He doesn't strike me as someone who would want anyone he couldn't control around him."

Batman turned his sights onto the blonde vigilante. "You're right, but in Shiva's case, it's different. She's in a class all of her own. The two respect each other too much to squabble over station. If Ra's calls her and she refuses his order, that's the end of it. There is no retribution, not that Ra's could exact any on her. She's that good."

"I'm not familiar enough with these assassin folks," Green Arrow then spoke up. "So perhaps if you could give me an idea of how good this Shiva lady is, it might help me understand."

Fine, if he—and by extension the Network—needed to be told to stay as far away from Shiva as they could, then he would be blunt about it. "Shiva is one of the most deadly martial artists in the world. At the very least, she's the deadliest woman and that includes members of the Justice League. I could count on one hand the number of people with a higher body count than her and Ra's al Ghul is one of them courtesy of the centuries he's lived. She will not hesitate to kill you in the most brutal and efficient way possible. I know this because she took a special interest in me during my time with the Demon's Fang. She was one of my teachers."

This time every eye was wide. Even Katana was reacting to his words. "So, under no circumstance are any of you to engage her in combat. You will lose, plain and simple."

There was silence until Green Arrow murmured, "Well, that was blunt."

"Perhaps we should go back to why Ra's al Ghul wanted to speak with you," Nightwing then suggested.

Batman gave him a sharp nod in return. "He requested my presence—" he then stopped to look at Zatanna, "—as well as you, Zatanna."

Both of the dark-haired woman's eyebrows raised until they were practically apart of her hairline. "He wanted us specifically? Why?"

At this, the vigilante pulled out the envelope Ra's had given him, which he then tossed across the table to the magician. "This. It looks as if some sort of ritual was performed right here in Gotham."

Eyeing him and then the envelope, Zatanna picked it up and opened it, pulling out the photos. Immediately, she scowled even as she began to rifle through them. "Are you absolutely certain this happened here?" she demanded.

Batman shrugged his shoulders. "That's what Ra's claims. He wants to meet the two of us at what I'm assuming is the location, or someplace close by it. He wanted us two specifically."

"Umm, guys?" At this Huntress waved a hand at them. "You mind telling the rest of the class what the hell you two are talking about?"

Without looking away from the photos, Zatanna answered her. "Ra's is claiming that someone has been performing a blood magic ritual. That's not a good thing."

"How bad are we talking here?"

"Well, someone was killed so that a powerful spell could be performed, what I don't know." At this, the magician pulled out a picture and slid it across the table to the purple-clad woman, who stopped it with her hand.. "As you can see, that alter has seen quite a bit of use."

Huntress paled at the sight of the picture. "Jesus," she swore.

Zatanna returned her attention to the Dark Knight. "How do you know Ra's is telling you the truth about this? That this happened in Gotham? For all we know, this happened somewhere else and he took pictures of it. Or he's the one behind it. He strikes me as someone that wouldn't shy away from this."

The vigilante shook his head. "Not in this. If there is one thing I'm certain about, it's that Ra's despises blood magic. There wasn't a follower of his that didn't know about his disdain for it. In fact, we were on running orders to destroy any ritual site and dispose of any proprietor of those dark arts should we find them."

"And for good reason," the dark-haired woman muttered. Then she spoke louder, "Until I see otherwise, Ra's is just as good as anyone to have perpetrated this, at least in my eyes. After all the terrible stuff he's done, you can't disqualify him from anything."

"So will you go to meet him?" he asked.

"Just you and me? Uhh, no."

"I have to agree with Zatanna on that," Nightwing jumped in. "No way should you have to meet with this guy by yourselves. If this guy is as bad as you say he is, this has to be a trap. He probably has some way to take out Zatanna and he wants to use it on her."

"I never said we'd be going alone." At this, he looked to Green Arrow. "Zatanna and I will meet with Ra's, but there will be a couple of you close by as reinforcements. Green Arrow will be one due to his long range threat." He then looked over to Katana. "And Katana will be there because she has the skills to handle herself against the caliber of the Ra's assassins."

"I'm going too," Batgirl then said.

Batman shook his head. "No, you're not. That's too many people on this mission and you're needed elsewhere."

His daughter stared at him. For a moment she seemed stunned, but then her hands began to clench tightly into fists. "And that's what you want?" she growled, her tone deadpanned.

He nodded. "I need you to coordinate with Huntress on—"

Before he could finish, Batgirl stood up, shoving her seat back before she spun on her heels and marched out of the room. Zatanna twisted her head to watch her leave, as well as the others, just before she stood up. She shot Batman a look before she went after the fuming girl.

"I think that's the end of this meeting," Huntress remarked before she too began to stand. "I'll go see what's annoying that kid of yours and then I'll speak to you about whatever job you have in mind." With that, she walked in the direction the other two women had gone.

And with that, it seemed everyone else began to take their cue and began to leave. Batman just stayed seated where he was, running over in his head what had just happened. He was fairly certain there was something else at play here between him and Cassandra. She would've continued arguing with his decision to separate them from each other, so her abrupt leaving was stunning. No doubt Zatanna was going to get to the bottom of this, but…

A shadow fell over him. He immediately turned his head.

Standing next to him was Nightwing. "Batman, we need to talk," he said succinctly.

"About what?" he questioned.

The young man tilted his head to one side, and then the other, as if making sure they were alone. At the very least, they were out of earshot distance as the rest of the vigilantes filed out of the room. "It concerns Oracle," he replied lowly.

"What about her?"

"She's been working on another project. Ya see, she found out about the Penguin coming back into the game and she's been trying to—"

Batman didn't hear the rest of what the young man said. He didn't have to. He was very well aware of what Oswald Cobblepot meant to Oracle. "She's trying to interfere with his operation," he interjected.

"Well, yeah. The problem is, I think she's becoming too obsessed with it."

"You believe we need to stage an intervention?"

"Maybe not right now, but unless the Penguin is apprehended, then yeah, I think so.

"I just thought you should know."

Yes, that was good of Nightwing to do. "I'll look into it," he told the young man. Though he should have expected something like this, it seemed he needed to do some damage control. In fact, there was a lot that needed to be done. Zatanna would handle one aspect with Huntress for assistance. This one with Oracle, however…

It seemed he was going to have to take care of that personally.

* * *

The other job, the one that didn't involve meeting with some master assassin about dark magic, was grounded in reality. Namely, it was finding one of the assassin—the last if Batman's intel was correct—that Bane had brought in.

As always, it was easier said than done. This was especially true as this assassin was described to be a sniper. Snipers knew how to hide themselves and could strike at any second. If he was anything like Deathstroke and Merlyn, this guy had to be real good.

It also didn't help that the city, even on the island portion, was a very big place with a lot of places a sniper could hide in.

It was lucky then they had a guardian bat who could narrow down the places they could check so that they weren't running around all night with nothing to show for it.

Not that that helped with anything.

This was the fourth building they had checked. Practically falling apart, the one upside it had was that it offered a neat little view of a very public space, one that once had a large police presence to it. If this Deadshot was as good as they say, sniping from this place would have been easy.

Except there was absolutely no signs he had been here, or planned to be here. It was very frustrating to Nightwing that they couldn't get a bead on the guy.

So as they were making their way to the fifth stop on this wild goose chase, Red Robin and taking point while Bluebird and Spoiler took up the rear, he had to voice his concerns to his old partner, the one who could give him another view with which to look at this mess.

"Are we really the ones right for this job?" he half-asked, half-demanded, making sure that his voice was loud enough for the masked teen to hear, but low enough that the girls either couldn't hear, or couldn't make out what he was saying. Those two were trying to keep it together as is.

"Where's this coming from?" Red Robin asked him, using the same vocal volume as the old vigilante. "I don't think this mission would have been given to our lot if the Bat himself didn't think us capable of it."

"But how the hell are any of us going to find a sniper? You know, the kings of long distance? He could be watching us now, about to make a kill and there's not a damn thing any one of us can do about it," Nightwing retorted. "Wait, don't tell me, you got some experience hunting snipers over in Jump, but forgot to tell me about that too."

"Actually, no sniper hunting training. Sorry to break it to you," Red Robin responded sheepishly.

"Great, so the kind of training you got is for everything else but the mission at hand. Figures."

"Well, hey, look at it this way. You wanted to be more involved. You want the girls to be better prepared for what this city has to offer. I mean, how long do you think the two of them will stick around in the Batclan? Why not, once they get good enough, join the Birds of Prey?" Red Robin pointed out.

"So what, the Batclan is now a training ground for up and coming vigilantes? That's not how I saw it when we first started," he retorted. Shaking his head, he kept his eyes focused on what was dead ahead—not the best words to use right now. "Plus we don't have the best track record. One paralyzed, one exiled, and the last dead. That's a failing grade for even a public school."

"Okay, sorry about that, but still, better than running, or fighting that Shiva lady, right?" the younger male replied.

Yeah, bring up the biggest fish in this shrinking pond of theirs.

"Look, I don't think this Deadshot is concerned with us, which we can use. He's targeting the people he thinks are threats, or who Bane sees as a threat. It's like back in North Gotham when he kicked our asses. We get a chance to show the both of them how wrong they are; we just have to do this the right way," the Jump City transplant continued.

"And think about it. We take down one of the world's deadliest assassins, or rough him up enough that he leaves the city. That has to count for something. It's the kind of victory we were always hoping to have back when we were starting this all out, though we never said anything out loud. We're better now than when we used to be. We play this right, we can finally prove once and for all that the Batclan isn't a joke. Even if it's only to ourselves."

Nightwing couldn't help but let out a sardonic smirk. "You still see yourself as a member?"

"At heart, I'll always be Batclan, no matter how many super-powered teenagers I find myself with," Red Robin joked back. "If I can leave it in better shape than when I found it, I'd count that as a win."

"Hey, what are you two talking about up there? Having a pow wow without us?" Bluebird called from behind them.

"Logistics! We're almost at the next one!" Red Robin called back over his shoulder.

"Can you hurry it up so we find the right place this time? I'm starting to get tired of finding nothing!" Spoiler answered loudly in response.

Nightwing wasn't going to say it, but he agreed with that sentiment in its entirety.

It was time to get back to business and find themselves a killer.

* * *

It was becoming harder and harder to cross the Gotham River, but that didn't make it impossible for the killer that Andrea Beaumont had become. After the revelation of Batman's true identity, her mind wasn't as sharp and focused as it usually was when she donned the mask of the Phantasm.

That didn't mean she did not have a goal in sight, she did. Focusing on that is what she should be doing. Planning her next movements were crucial should she yearn to keep her freedom. Such logic was easier in concept than in application, she found.

Nevertheless, she had made it to where she had stashed and set up Crane for the foreseen future. Before she left Gotham for good, this time with no intentions of returning, she needed to make sure that her supply of fear toxin remained secured. There was no doubt in her mind that the Phantasm would be called upon in the future. In fact, she counted on putting that mask on again and again.

In the back of her mind, she could hear the question Bruce had asked her during that night all those years ago. When would it ever be enough? When could she stop killing once and for all?

Even back then, Andrea had known the answer. A part of her also knew that Bruce knew as well. It was too late for the red-haired woman; the rabbit's hole she had fallen into held no end in sight.

Entering the factory, the Phantasm's face secured on her head, the killer practically glided over the floor, heading towards the area Crane had cordoned off for his experiments and small scale production. Frowning, she noted the lack of activity, as well as the lack of people in the building. Lately, Crane had been hiring people from the outside to mass produce much of his far toxin, specifically the type he had recently created that could be used in a liquid form.

Where was everyone?

This detail prompted her to increase her pace. She needed to speak with Crane anyway; satisfying her curiosity over the silence in the building could be accomplished at the same time.

Reaching Crane's lab, Andrea noted that it too was empty save for the chemistry equipment that held the contents of the former doctor's toxin in various stages. It looked like he was in the middle of making a new batch, but why wasn't he here to oversee it? Was he so confident in his skill as well as timing that he felt he could step away for a moment?

Something caught the remorseful killer's eye, and as she turned her eye to it, she froze as she spotted a body on the floor. It wasn't out of shock that her body stilled, more she was going on high alert and was minimizing all movement she could make so as to not bring any attention to herself. Details about the state of the body made themselves immediately known to her and the redhead briefly wondered whether it was a positive.

The corpse was a male, clad only in undergarments such as boxers and tight-fitting white shirt. Blood stained the white cloth, the source coming from bullet wounds, several of them. Blank eyes remained wide open, the pupils dilated and glazed over in death. Yet, very little blood pooled on the floor.

This wasn't where he was killed; he was brought here. Only one person came to mind as to who could have done that, but the reason was unknown. Why did Crane go out of his way to bring a body here? What purpose did it serve?

Then the dog tags were spotted. Moving closer, Andrea use the blade of her right hand to scoop it up and get a better look at it. There was a name she didn't know, but it was an American soldier. Not one of the National Guard that was quarantining the city; the letters that gave away the branch of the military this person belonged did not match the Guard's. It had been some time, but this person belonged to a branch of the Marines. A SEAL maybe?

But why was he here and in his underwear?

"Oh. You're back."

She was able to hide the flinch that she instinctively wanted to make. For a second she almost felt herself pull back and allow the Phantasm persona to take over. However she resisted, willing herself to not fall into old habits. She would be in charge this time; she would handle whatever came.

Keeping in character, she only moved her masked head to glance over her shoulder. In the doorway stood none other than Crane, though to her surprise he wasn't entirely in the getup that he had begun to wear.

In one hand, he held the mask that he had worn to Gotham Mercy, that stitched up burlap bag, and the long dark coat, but underneath the coat was a different story. Instead of a raggedy, patched up shirt, there appeared to be a more pristine uniform-esque shirt that was much bulgier than the previously mentioned garment. It almost resembled a military style...like the one that the corpse must have been wearing.

Someone had decided to loot a corpse for its gear. That must also include body armor the body had been dressed for combat. How it all fit on the skinny man remained unknown, but Andrea wouldn't have been surprised if they were of similar size and build.

"You seem surprised," Crane remarked, somehow managing to read her. "I felt I needed a bit of an upgrade to my ensemble and our fine volunteer over there has no further use for it. I made a few changes, of course, but I don't think you're here to hear about my sewing skills. Are you here for more toxin?"

"Enough for the next few weeks," the female killer stated.

"Why… I see. You're planning to leave again." Was it her, or had she heard disappointment in his voice? "Did your attempt on Bane not go well?"

"Circumstances are different. I need to leave. Now. While I still can," she stated.

"Indeed they are," the fear researcher agreed. "But I think you'll want to stay a little longer. I have a surprise for you, my friend."

_Keep yourself grounded, calm. Do not let your impatience get the better of you, Andrea._ "Another time, Crane. Give me what you have now and I will contact you later as to where to send the rest."

Taking a few steps closer to her, Crane gave her a look. It was as if he was trying to see through her mask, as if he thought she was not who she was, or supposed to be. "You seem...different."

She looked away, cursing in her head. "I have no time for this, Crane."

A hand places itself on her shoulder, and she instictively pulled away, nearly shoving her business associate away. After tonight, she was not in the mood for anyone touching her in anyway, especially not a man like this one.

"Curious...I always thought there was something off," the skinny man murmured. "But I suppose that's also none of my business. Still, I would strongly recommend that you stick around a little longer. I have a gift for you."

A gift? For her? Where was this coming from?

"What are you talking about?"

"A project that has been weeks in the planning, but tonight I am about to bring it to a close," Crane boasted, his lips splitting to form a thin smile. As he began to pace to a side, Andrea kept herself facing him, never letting the man out of her sight. "I feel like the two of us, we're mere sides of the same coin. We both are masters at our professions and our use of fear itself binds our fates together. Which is why I will present to you the ultimate opportunity. Tonight, you'll be able to finish off our major antagonists. Yes, I do mean Strange, but also Bane himself will not be able to withstand this."

She remained quiet, stoic. She knew Crane's type. When they thought they were in a moment of triumph, they tended to gloat and brag about it. If she said not a word and allowed him to talk, he'd give everything away.

"This city is more than ripe for the greatest experiment in fear that will be taking place." Yes, he was continuing like she predicted. "Everyone succombing to their worst nightmares made into terrible reality and done in such a way that no one is immune. As everyone panics, you'll have free reign to finish off your targets and no one will be the wiser, just like your _modus operandi_. If you were to leave, now of all times, you'd miss this chance I've worked so hard to bring about."

And he was not giving her the kind of information that she wanted. "What chance is this?"

"You know how potent my fear toxin is. Thanks to your contributions, I have it even more potent, as well as given it a new delivery system. As I speak, the treatment at the reservoir will be complete and ready to be released into the water supply. Everyone who drinks with it, cooks with it, and bathes in it will be exposed. Everyone from the powerful to the meek will be victim to the effects; it's going to be enlightening what data I can get from it."

There it was. Behind her back, Crane had poisoned Gotham's water supply and was preparing to release it. Suddenly, the details such as the workforce, the mass production, everything, came together to allow her to divine how he was able to do this. She may not be a detective, but she could put the evidence together.

"This is not what I hired you to do," the masked killer stated.

"It's an unforeseen perk and one you can't pass up," Crane replied. "Come, my friend. Let's teach Gotham the true meaning of terror. Let's show everyone the power that fear commands. We're the only ones with the knowledge and skills to wield them correctly. Before tonight is over, even Bane will fall."

"And I'm stopping this now," Andrea growled with her altered voice. She allowed her bladed hand to attract Crane's attention as she held it up menacingly.

"Come now. I always assumed you were a professional. How can you refuse the opportunity I am giving to you?" Crane slipped his mask on as he spoke, his voice gaining an echo-y sound to it thanks to the air filter embedded in the burlap.

"You overstep yourself, Dr. Crane. I will not be a party to this." She took a step forward, mentally lamenting that she was about to add another name to the list of people she had sworn to kill. When did it stop indeed.

Crane, though, slipped out what looked like a gun. The barrel was larger than what was typical, revealing that it wasn't a bullet that was loaded into it. Already, she went over the possibilities and narrowed it down to be some sort of delivery system for more of his toxin, most likely a dart.

"It doesn't have to be this way. Wait, let my efforts bear its fruits first. We can still be partners," the fear-obsessed scientist cautioned.

"As of now, it is over, Dr. Crane." The Phantasm prepared to use the launching mechanism that would fire her blade into the man's chest. "Your Angel of Death awaits."

Crane pulled the trigger.

* * *

With a flourish, Barbara striked the ENTER button, a satisfied gleam in her eyes. The program she had just set up was running at full stride and she couldn't wait to get the results back.

It had been several hours of hard work full of writing code. Finding how Cobblepot was getting his shipments into Gotham had been relatively easy in comparison. There were only a few ways left to the man due to the National Guard's blockade and that squaty man had found them. However, once she tracked things to the mainland did it become more complicated. She had managed to discover the starting points along the coast, but discovering how the shipments reached those locations was proving the be problematic. Her solution was to write an algorithm that would give her a nice, neat, short list of possible candidates.

It would take a little bit, but she was confident she would see results.

Stretching her arms high above her head, her back muscles getting in on that action as well, the redhead worked out the stiffness that had developed in her upper body. Barbara hadn't realized just how long she had been at this, but she didn't care either. Her stomach choosing to rumble then made her chuckle. Apparently she had been ignoring her body for longer than she thought.

Faintly, she could hear Dick's voice in her head telling her to take a break. Naturally she ignored that voice, despite its well-intentions. However, she literally had nothing else going on. The Network wasn't calling her and she was unaware of anything she needed to be performing surveillance on. Perhaps, for once, she should heed that inner voice and do something about her body.

"If Dick could see me now," she muttered as she grabbed the wheels to her chair and began backing away from her computer station. Moving a few feet away, she then grabbed ahold of one wheel to keep it stationary while still moving the other. This cause her to spin around until she was facing the doorway to the room. Propelling herself through the doorway, she entered a more welcoming room. It was a living room, with chairs, a coffee table, couch, and your other run-of-the-mill furniture. To her right would be her kitchen and she again spun her chair to face it.

Instantly she came to a stop, freezing as her eyes widened. Standing between her and her kitchen was the Batman in all of his dark glory. He stared at her from those maddeningly blank white eyes, his posture as rigid as a statue.

_How...what...why…?_

"You've been busy, Oracle," he greeted her.

She couldn't help herself. Barbara flinched and immediately knew that was the wrong response. What better way to give herself away to the man considered to be the World's Greatest Detective? And yet, she had no earthly idea how he had gotten here.

Now, Barbara knew from experience that Batman could get anywhere he wanted. Getting into her little apartment was no problem for him. What concerned her, however, was all of the sensors and security protocols she had in place to alert her to an intruder. Glancing to her right to her computer station, there wasn't a single monitor flashing from one of her sensors being tripped. Somehow, someway, the Dark Knight had gotten into her base without so much as alerting her.

That was impressive and scary all at the same time.

"B-batman?" she sputtered out in response as her eyes flickered back to the hero. "What are you doing here?"

The redhead would have continued with her fumbling denial had Batman not taking a step towards her and another. He soon was standing in front of her, looming over her, his shadow enveloping her smaller form. "I've known what you've been doing, Gordon, for a long time now. It'd be in your best interest to not insult my intelligence further."

Barbara flushed even as she shrunk in on herself. "How did you get in?" she asked then. "I've—"

"Got a large number of security system and protocols in place. I know," he finished for her. "That is unimportant. I understand you're working to apprehend Cobblepot."

Whatever meekness she had been feeling vanished at the mention of the Penguin. "Yes, I am. Because _you_ didn't do it, why I don't understand."

Batman then said something she never thought she would hear. "I need you to stop what you're doing."

Stop? He wanted her to _stop?_ After what he did to her?! Her face twisted with anger as she glared at the man. "How can you ask me that?" she demanded "After everything he's done, not just to me, but to the city. He can't get away with that!"

"And he won't," the vigilante responded.

"How?! You had him in your hands and let him go! Don't think I haven't seen the dock's security footage! Clearly he said something to you and you bought it hook, line, and sinker! So if you're not going to take that bastard down, then I will!"

Batman leaned towards her, bringing his face closer to hers. Intellectually, she knew it was a bullying tactic, one used to intimidate her. She had taken psychology classes so she understood the concept. And yet, it was working. Still, the redhead refused to be cowed. Much was said about this man's will power; well, he had never gone up against a pissed off Gordon woman before.

"You _will_ stop what you're doing. I have plans for him and they won't work if you're interfering," he told her sternly.

"Oh, really?" she countered snidely. "So you're fine with letting criminals run around as long as they're doing your bidding?"

Batman just stared at her before tilting his head to a side. He was looking right at her computer station, the part visible from the doorway. "You're trying to track down Cobblepot's suppliers," he said more than asked.

A small part of Barbara was impressed that he knew this with one glance. She just refused to let him know about it. "Maybe," she acquisented.

"You can stop doing that. I already know who they are."

Of course he did. Suddenly she was starting to understand why some of the other vigilantes were annoyed with him at times. "So what do you plan on doing?" she questioned.

"Use then, of course."

_Use them?_ Barbara blinked her eyes owlishly. What did that even mean? "How?"

Reaching to his belt, Batman pulled out a flash drive. Straightening his posture, he then held the small device to her. "This drive contains all the relevant information. Since you're in the process of investigating, you can do something for me."

Barbara found herself echoing his words in his head...again. She could...help him? Her. Him. Help. What she wouldn't have given to hear those words so many years ago and here they were. So she couldn't help herself when she asked, "What do you want me to do?"

"You'll find a list inside. I want you to place it as an order to Cobblepot's suppliers."

She stared at him. "You want to use Cobblepot to supply us? Is that how you've been getting all of our new equipment?"

"No."

"Then why? You have to tell me that at least."

"When you see the list, you'll know why."

She scowled. "Not good enough."

Batman stared at her. "Then put it this way, when it's discovered what those supplies are, Cobblepot's going to find himself in big trouble with the wrong client."

Barbara raised an eyebrow at that before she glanced down to look at the flash drive. Really? There was something in this little thing that would do that? Looking back up, the redhead jumped in startlement. Despite being mere inches from her, Batman had vanished into thin air. Jerking her head from side to side, she saw no sign of the man anywhere.

Is this how Dad felt when this happened?

Once again looking at the device, her appetite completely spoiled, Barbara then wheeled herself back to her computer station. She might as well find out what exactly Batman was hinting at. She didn't have anything else to do.

Reaching her station, she shoved the flash drive into a USB port. It took a few seconds before a window popped up on one of her monitors. Immediately, it was filled with pictures of various men, backgrounds and intel written next to each picture. Scanning them, Barbara couldn't help but scowl at the thoroughness of each profile. She had spent countless hours trying to find these men and here they all were, practically gift-wrapped with a bow.

Scrolling down, she soon found the list Batman had mentioned. Reading it, the redhead frowned, rereading it again to make sure she had read what she thought she had. Slowly, a smirk began to grow on her face.

"Oh, this is just too good."

* * *

To FlackAttack: Never question luck. It is a fickle mistress


	25. Signal In The Sky

Andrea's costume didn't seem to keep out the chill of the night. The confrontation with Crane hadn't gone well, the fear-obsessed scientist managing to escape. Thankfully he was a bad shot and she left unharmed as well. She knew where he had gone, what he was planning to do, everything. She could go there and take care of the matter personally and permanently.

But then where did it end? Where did it ever end?

The past few hours had exhausted her mentally and she was almost welcoming the return of that frame of mind, the cold, unfeeling state that was the Phantasm persona. She continued to resist, though why she could not say.

Despite all that, she knew this Crane situation was her fault. The redhead had no intention of poisoning a whole city with fear toxin. No matter what Crane believed, there was no benefit to any of it other than satisfying his own demented passion. He needed to be stopped.

At least, there, she knew someone who could.

The bad news was that someone hadn't paid their phone bill in a while and the line was shut down. So much for trying to reach Wayne Manor. Even after all these years, Bruce had kept the same number, one she had memorized years ago and one that could be recalled with muscle memory alone.

Damn it, how hard was it to reach the man? Well, there were other options, weren't there? When calling the manor hadn't worked, she had thought about Wayne Enterprises, but stopped when she realized whatever corporate number she could use would not be of use since she didn't know Bruce's specific number. Plus, he had been absent from the company since Bane threw him into the streets.

Options became limited the longer she thought about it. How else do you reach a man who dressed up like bat to fight crime in the middle of the night?

That was when inspiration struck.

She had heard the stories about it. The pictures on the internet only confirmed the stories. To think it had been set up just as she had left Gotham for a second time. Yet it would be her last chance and the only one she was desperate enough to try.

There Andrea stood, on a building across the street from what was the Gotham City Police Department. On a corner of the building's rooftop was a searchlight, one that had a bat-like shape placed over the glass from which the light would shine. That would be her means of calling the man who had been the love of her life once upon a time.

If only things could have turned out differently.

It was easy to cross over and reach the station's roof. However, the "Bat Signal" as it was known was not her first destination. It was to the rooftop access door that she approached. Slipping out a small device, she placed it over the door's hinges, a means of jamming it so that she would have more time to wait. Once she turned that signal on, she was going to attract a lot of attention, of that she was sure.

As an added precaution, she damaged the door's lock. Mere minutes would they buy her, but that was time she was willing to purchase.

Turning to the large searchlight, Andrea made her approach, her masked eyes scanning the large, light-producing device. Somewhere on it...there, the on switch so to speak. It was more like a lever, but it was obvious that was the way to turn it on.

Looking over the signal to make sure it was pointing at the sky, Andrea took a deep breath before taking hold of the lever. It was now or never, and during her time as the Phantasm, she found she was the kind of person who didn't hesitate once she had decided on an action.

She pushed down the lever and a beam of light tore through the night.

* * *

There was no point in trying to be subtle, or stealthy. Ra's al Ghul did not travel alone, always surrounded by an entourage of his best men. They would be strategically placed throughout the area on constant surveillance. They would know when someone was approaching their master.

So Batman didn't even try. Perched openly on the edge of a building, the vigilante stared down to the streets, specifically at the corner Ra's had instructed him to go to. Standing as promised, Ra's waited patiently, looking as if he belonged, and yet not. It was a dichotomy only he could have perfected.

"You're sure about this?" Zatanna whispered next to him, the magician leaning over the edge next to him. "We're just going to meet up with this guy and step right into a trap?"

"Positive," the dark-clad man grunted back. Though he and the dark-haired woman were out in the open, the same could not be said of Katana and Green Arrow. They were hidden close by, hopefully out of sight of Ra's assassins. They would be their only backup and it was best to keep that a surprise.

"Well then, I'll let you spring this trap first," Zatanna said. "No sense in sticking my neck out."

"Thanks, Zana. Your confidence in me is inspiring."

"You're welcome."

The corner of his mouth twitched up, the only sign of good humor he allowed himself to show. Jumping off the ledge, he activated his cape's glider mode and soared through the air, gliding down to meet his former mentor. The distance between them shrunk rapidly, the ancient man catching sight of him when he was perhaps a hundred feet away.

The older man turned to face him as he continued to close in on him, landing on the ground before the Demon's Head as he released his grip on the his cape, allowing it to fall limply around his body. "You always had a taste for theatricality, Detective," the Eternal Man greeted him. "It serves you well."

"You wanted to show me something," Batman returned, standing up to his full height, which put him at eye level with Ra's.

He nodded. "I believe I told you to bring your magician friend. Is she unable to show?"

As if that were a cue, a cloud of smoke erupted next to the Dark Knight, the smoke quickly dissipating as Zatanna appeared. "Hello, boys," she announced.

Ra's just stared at her for a moment before returning his attention to Batman. "I see she's taken to your brand of dramatic entrances."

Then with a flourish of his cloak, Ra's spun on his heels and began walking down the street, Batman and Zatanna following behind him. "As you know, Detective, I despise the use of blood magic. In the many years I have lived, I have toiled relentlessly to wipe this scourge of humanity off the face of the Earth."

Batman nodded even though Ra's couldn't see him do so. "I'm well aware."

"Since your defection at Nanda Parbat, I have come across an old group of such fools. I have transverse the globe eliminating their sects until I came across a trail that led me right to Gotham." Ra's came to a stop by a doorway, turning around to face his two followers. "The trail led me to here."

Glancing to the doorway, the vigilante quickly noted whatever door had been present had been removed, the broken remains of hinges hanging from the frame. The door had been set aside on the wall of the building. The doorway itself led to a set of stairs that led down to what must be a cellar.

That's when he felt a hand grab onto his arm. Turning his head, he saw an alarmed Zatanna staring at the doorway, her hand seeming to squeeze tighter and tighter. "Something bad happened down there," she nearly whispered.

This apparently met with Ra's approval. "It seems you have aligned yourself with someone suitably sensitive in these matters—excellent. May we proceed?"

Without waiting for further invitation, Batman moved to the doorway, Zatanna trailing behind him as she hung onto his arm. Climbing down the stairs, he soon reached the bottom where he was met with another door. Grabbing the knob, he turned it and shoved the door open.

Considering the pictures he was given, the vigilante had expected to find that scene beyond the door. What he was met with was disappointing. Entering the room, he found it was completely empty. According to the pictures, there should have been a stone altar towards the back of the room, along with a mantle on the far wall that held several totems.

Instead he found the place cleansed. About the only thing that hadn't been was a dark inline of a circle, crudely drawn on the floor. It matched what he had seen in the photos, undoubtedly being the result of blood dripping off the altar and spattering on the ground.

Turning around, Batman found Ra's had followed him and Zatanna into the cellar. "Why did you remove everything?" he demanded.

The Demon's head tilted his head back haughtily. "To ensure it was no longer used by its dark perpetrators. This should come as no surprise to you, Detective."

Though hidden by his cape, the Dark Knight clenched his hand tightly into a fist. In his haste to destroy this desecrated temple, Ra;s had removed any possible clues he could have used to identify these blood mages. That angered him more than anything.

"Did you bring the pictures with you?" Zatanna suddenly spoke then.

Turning his attention to his old friend, Batman quickly pulled out the envelope Ra's had given him. Immediately, Zatanna snatched it from his hand and opened it, pulling out the pictures and starting to rifle through them. Finding one she wanted, she pulled it from the stack and held it up before her, turning her body until she faced its exact location. Her eyes narrowed at this.

"The mantel with the totems was along the back wall, right?" she asked Ra's.

"It was," he answered.

"And the altar was about where that stain is?"

"Correct."

Then, strangely, Zatanna shuddered. She squeezed her eyes shut as if she were fighting something back in her mind. "A lot of people were killed here. I can hear their screams."

There was a hardening of Ra's face. "As I expected," he spoke, though it was clear he was not happy to be right about this.

Then the magician said something surprising. "I've seen this set-up before. And if these totems were indeed the ones found here, I can tell you exactly who."

That got Batman's attention. "Who?"

However, instead of speaking it, Zatanna shook her head. "There are spells still hanging around in here. A couple of them are scrying spells, ones designed to activate when certain words are spoken. Considering who this is, I know I'll activate one of those spells by saying their name, along with the deity they were...worshiping."

"Really?" Ra's responded, clearly interested in her explanation. "How can you determine all of this?"

"Again, I've dealt with them before, so they use a lot of the same spells for security purposes. Plus, each spell has a certain color and feel about them." Her eyes then closed, opening to reveal a brilliant white. They shined for several seconds before fading back to her blues. "I've been scanning for them the moment we started down the stairs."

"Then allow us to leave this desecrated place," Ra's proclaimed before spinning around to begin walking back up the stairs. Seeing as there was nothing else he could do here to be of use, Batman followed the older man, ending up the rear of their group as Zatanna immediately exited the room the first chance she got.

The moment they reached street level, they were facing each other once more. "Tell me everything you know of these people," Ra's ordered the magician.

Zatanna cleared her throat, a nervous gesture. "They change their name all of the time so that they aren't easily tracked. They're Barbatos worshipers and they use shrines like that room to bring him closer to this world."

A scowl appeared on the Demon's Head's face. "Abominable," he seethed. "Those fools have no idea what forces they are conjuring."

Zatanna raised an eyebrow. "I take it you're familiar with Barbatos."

"I am. There was an incident many centuries ago in which a small clan attempted to open a door into this realm for that demon. I am not proud of the fact that I had played a role in it, but I was able to successfully close that door—permanently."

"Oh, really. You were involved. I'm not at all surprised."

Ra's returned the magician's sarcasm with a cool look. "I was manipulated to play the role that I did. It is still one of the few times that I was completely taken in by such a plot. Needless to say, those men did not survive that night.

"More importantly, what do you know of this latest incarnation?"

"I've only ever met low-level conjurers, if that's what you're asking. I do know they have a leader and some accounts indicate he's lived as long as you have. Maybe not the fully seven centuries, but he has a couple under his belt. He's completely devoted to Barbatos, however."

"What do these people call themselves?" Batman then asked.

Zatanna shrugged her shoulders. "Like I said, they change their name. I've heard Miagani before, Blood Mob once or twice. The first time I came across them, they called themselves Bat Worshipers." She paused for a moment as she glanced at the vigilante. "Not worship of you, just so you don't get a big head. Barbatos is usually described as a giant bat...which is kinda like you. Were you taking notes?"

Batman ignored the jab. Apparently this group had a link to Gotham, if one of their names was any indication. The Miagani had been a tribe local to the Gotham area before the various European nations began colonizing the New World. He would need to look into them again since he hadn't heard of them since grade school.

"More importantly," Ra's interjected then, "is whether you can locate these people. They must be stopped before they irrevocably damage this world."

Zatanna looked to the building, contemplating Ra's question. "Suppose I can—does that mean you're going to hunt these people down and kill them?"

"There is no other solution. You yourself felt the horrors that were committed in that room. We must send a message that such rites will not be tolerated. Blood spilled shall end with blood shed."

"No, it won't," Batman growled.

"Then what do you intend to do, Detective?" Ra's retorted. "Will you see these men arrested? That is no solution. They will only continue their horrific deeds until they succeed. There is no imprisonment that will stop them for good."

"And I won't allow you to just kill them. There is always another way."

That was when he felt Zatanna's hand grab his arm again. "Batman, there may be no other way."

Shock overwhelmed the vigilante even as he turned his head to give his long-time friend a look of disbelief. Had Zana suggested what he thought he heard? It couldn't be. Why would she say such a thing?

"Etacol eht doolb segam," she chanted and a blue aura suddenly enveloped her. Part of it wrapped around his arm, but it went no further. Instinctively he wanted to pull away, but something kept him rooted to where he stood. In fact, he stared right into Zatanna's glazed over eyes, the dark-haired woman seeming to stare into a completely different world. "Wohs em lla seiromem."

Seconds turned into minutes, then as sudden as it started, the aura ended, fading away into nothingness. Head jerking towards Ra's, Zatanna said, "These guys left Gotham a few months ago. I can't give you an exact time, but I'm certain it was before Bane. They took a plane to the east, over the Atlantic."

Ra's did not seem to look persuaded by this. "Is that all you can tell me?"

The dark-haired woman tilted her head back haughtily. "The spell I had to perform allowed me to search the memories of this entire area. A lot of people have been in the area, so it took me a bit to focus on the right ones. Not the most exact spell, but it's the best I have on such short notice. I was able to pick up a couple words though: catacombs and France."

"The Paris catacombs," the older man immediately proclaimed. "That is a rather fitting location, I must admit."

"Only for sick-minded people," the magician retorted back. "Now, before we have anymore objections, let me handle this one."

Ra's nodded in response before he turned his attention back to Batman. "Once again, I must commend you on your alliance. Until we meet again."

Before Batman could even speak a word, a cloud of smoke erupted around him and Zatanna. A moment later and they were on a building several blocks away. Whipping his head around, he spotted the street corner, the figure of Ra's al Ghul all but a tiny dot to him.

He then ripped his arm out of Zatanna's grasp. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!" he barked at her.

The dark-haired woman looked back at him coolly. "What needed to be done."

"What needed...you just sentenced a bunch of people to death!" he nearly roared. The both of them knew how this story would end, with Ra's slaughtering these blood mages. This wasn't a surprise and yet, Zatanna had offered them up on a silver platter. It went against everything he fucking stood for. "How could you do that?"

"Whoever said I gave Ra's the correct location?"

That gave him pause. "You mean…?"

"That entire spell was just for show for your old buddy there," Zatanna explained. "I've no idea where these guys went, but I had to give him something. At the very least, Ra's may go after these people himself and that's one less threat to Gotham. Sure, it'll only take him a day or two to realize I gave him a bad tip, but I can't think of anything else to get rid of him short of there being a full-pitched fight. We don't have the kind of manpower for that kind of battle and you know better than anyone the resources Ra's has access to."

For once in a long time, Batman felt sheepish. He should've trust the magician to be thinking of such things rather than his initial revulsion. "It seems I wasn't thinking of that," he admitted.

"And that's why you have me around," she replied, smiling at him. "I'm more than just a pretty face."

Reaching up, he place a hand on her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. In response, Zatanna took a step towards him, tilting her head back as she gazed into his eyes.

And then her eyes flickered to a side, which caused her to frown. "What the hell?"

Turning around, Batman soon saw what Zana was looking at. Up in the sky, the symbol of the Bat lit up the clouds. Someone had turned on the signal at the GCPD, but he found himself without a possible suspect in mind. Only Gordon had used it, but he was on the other side of the river.

So who turned it on?

* * *

Sarah had been the one to alert him to it and Gordon was full glad that she had.

Up in the sky, he could see it. That bright circle with the symbol of Batman darkening its center. How long had it been since he had last seen it? There was so much nostalgia along with a sense of hope he felt, at least initially. Who had it turned it on, though? Sawyer? Petit? Probably not him, but was it someone else, someone he overlooked at the department?

Or was it a civilian? It wouldn't be the first time someone who wasn't him, or the former Harvey Dent, had turned the signal on in the hopes of calling the city's most famous vigilante.

But why? Why now of all times, after everything from Bane's takedown, the almost mindless violence, and let's not forget the blowing up of all the bridges, was the signal being turned off? Were people becoming so desperate now that they were turning to a symbol of hope that they had long since written off, hoping that he would save them from this hell?

Whatever the reason, the Commissioner couldn't help the smile that was curving his lips. Unlike most, Gordon knew that he was out there, doing his best to bring an end to this nightmare that did not seem to ever end.

So he would see this as a sign, a good one. It was one that would push him to keep moving forward.

Because this would be ending soon.

* * *

"The hell is that?" Eiling demanded, his head craned back and his eyes on the light in the sky. The General had never seen anything like it before and he was a man when confronted with something he didn't know tended to get angry.

"I've heard the reports. It's something this city does," Flag stated, showing no sign of alarm, or concern. To him, the circle of light with the bat in the middle of it meant nothing. It was something to roll your eyes at and forget about because it was completely ridiculous.

Both of these men had better things to do than think about something they had no power over.

Fixing the strap that allowed his assault rifle to be carried over his shoulder, the commando finished the last of his preparations for entering the city itself. He'd be going in alone and had no time to think about some night light in the sky. It wasn't the first solo mission he had done, but the status of his squad held some weight over him. Flag needed to put that aside for the moment though, and see this task through.

"I'm not a superstitious man, but I don't like this," the general growled, his eyes still on the lit up bat in the sky.

"We're not here to like anything," Flag retorted. "Let the people over there do what they want; unless it interferes with our mission, it's not our problem."

"Then godspeed, Commander. I don't know why they got you on some wild goose chase when you are better deployed here," Eiling replied, spitting on the ground.

"Orders are orders. As soldiers we follow them. You know that better than anyone," the commando said as he left the command tent.

* * *

It hadn't taken long for word of that search light being turned on to reach Petit, but when it had, the SWAT commander was anything but happy about it.

"What moron turned that Goddamn thing on?" the mustached man demanded as he raced up the stairs, heading for the roof. Behind him were several officers, a mix of beat cops, detectives, and SWAT members. Petit lead the way, his gun holstered for the moment because it would be incredibly stupid to trip and either lose the weapon, or have it go off if the safety wasn't on.

He'd take it out and shoot the bastard who decided using that signal was a good idea. Sure, what a way to let everyone know that the department didn't have a handle on the situation. It was undermining their efforts, undermining _him_, and he was not going to tolerate any insubordination.

Reaching the door that led to the roof, Petit finally unholstered his department-issued firearm and rammed into the metal door shoulder first, angling himself so that he hit the long, horizontal push bar that would open the damn thing.

The damn thing didn't budge and Petit himself crashing into the door instead, followed by his fellow officers running into _him_ barely a second later. It was like something from the Goddamn Keystone Cops, but the commander wasn't laughing.

"The hell! Why the hell's this door locked?!" Petit roared, pushing himself back, along with the officers pressed up behind him, then hitting the push bar once more. Again, the door didn't budge, pissing him off more.

"Who locked the fucking door?!" he yelled once more, wanting an answer _now_.

"The keys!" someone called out, and the commander heard the sound of keys jingling through the air as they were thrown. Somehow, he was able to catch them with his free hand, not even looking behind himself to gauge their trajectory.

Ramming one key into the lock, he tried to turn it and swore again when it didn't move. He tried a second, then a third key, until he found the right one. Imagine how angry he became when he realized that the door wasn't locked in the first place, but still refused to open. How did that make any sense?! There was no way this could be happening—

"It's fucking jammed!" he realized, yelling his conclusion out loud. "Someone go downstairs and get something that goes boom! We're blowing this thing off the hinges!"

Whatever patience Petit once had, it was safe to say now he had run out. God help whoever was on the other side.

* * *

"Huh. Well that's new. Been awhile." Nightwing glanced over at Red Robin before looking up to the sky where the younger vigilante's attention was.

Well, what do you know, it was the Bat Signal. For some reason, that was a sight for sore eyes.

Behind them, the older vigilante could hear Spoiler say, "That's so awesome."

He'd have to agreed, but add some nostalgia in there. There was something to be said about seeing that signal after all this time. He had no idea how much he had missed seeing it. It filled him with a sense of hope, that they were reaching a turning point.

That maybe the end was at hand at long last.

* * *

"Somebody's probably going to get fired," Huntress told herself, gazing at the sight of the Bat Signal. Turning away, she got back to the business of trying to hunt down that last assassin. Now wasn't the time to be staring up in the sky like some dumbass.

It didn't stop the smile that formed on her lips though.

* * *

The words of his men had reached him and that was what prompted Bane to find out what had put them into such a mood. For some time, he had observed the presence of that search light that he knew was located on the rooftop of the GCPD, how it was turned on at various times and spooking the local criminal elements as a result.

That light had gone dark for months. Why was it now being turned on? What use was there for it when the man for whom it was meant for would never answer it again?

It didn't make sense to him. Even after all this time, the people of this city were still turning to the Batman for aid and succor? Did they still have hope?

Beside him, Zombie stood at his side, remaining silent as the masked man debated in his head the meaning of this latest turn in events. Eventually, the thin, bald man spoke up, "What do you make of this? Is it something we should be concerned about?"

Should he be concerned about it? Worried over a machine whose purpose was to put the fear of Batman into anyone who preyed on the weak citizens of this city? No, no it wasn't. Batman was broken and gone. If this was meant for the second rate wannabe, then it only revealed how desperate this city was becoming.

If only his manpower was still strong enough to really take advantage of it. Ra's al Ghul's persistence in standing in his way was seeing to that. As of late, the demonic man was going quiet, which come mean another offensive was being planned.

Still…

"Why?" he growled. "Why do they turn to him? I broke him, so why?"

"Bane?" Zombie asked, hesitancy in his voice.

The moment of uncertainty passed, and Bane focused himself on more important matters. "This means nothing. We continue as planned. Nothing and no one will stand in my way, not even a desperate act of a desperate people. They'll all learn in time that I'm the leader they need, whether they want it, or not."

Turning on his heel, Bane returned to the inside of his makeshift fortress, the site of his last stand in this city.

* * *

Batman didn't like this.

Taking up a position across the street from the GCPD, not to mention one that was on top of a taller building, the vigilante stared at the sight of the signal light, eyeing the darkly-dressed figure standing next to it. A look through his binoculars had shown it to be Andrea in her Phantasm garb.

The whole scene was wrong. Andrea never stood out in the open, not when she was on a kill. Like him, she waited in the shadows and then struck. This...this was new and wrong and...and…

"Why is it we can't go anywhere without an ex of yours showing up?" Zatanna complained. While Batman was crouched at the edge of the building, the magician was standing, arms crossed over her chest with her profile showing. There was a look of disdain on her face as she peered over the ledge.

Upon seeing the signal in the sky, the two had been teleported by one of Zana's spells to their current location. It only made sense to scope out the area. That wasn't including the current status of his relationship with the GCPD.

Was this a trap, or something else entirely?

"Zana, I want you to keep watch here," he said then, never once tearing his eyes away from the dark figure below. "I'll go see what this is all about."

"You do realize Batgirl will kill me if I let you do that," she retorted.

"With this vantage point and your powers, you can stop whatever trap this may be. You can even pull me out at a moment's notice," he countered.

There was a moment's silence before she huffed. "I hate it when you're right."

Taking that as her acceptance, Batman launched himself from the building, activating the glider mode of his cape as he soared down to the roof of the GCPD. He ended up landing right next to the signal, though out of Andrea's sight. It helped that she was looking out into the city, though she did chance a couple glances to the roof access.

Striding around the skylight, Batman stood next to it and watched his former flame for a moment, waiting for her to finally look in his direction. The moment she did, she froze, staring at him intently. "You came," she greeted in that deep, altered voice of hers.

"What do you want?" he growled back.

For a moment, she just stared at him before she straightened out her posture, her shoulders rolling back to hold herself stiffly. "You're familiar with Dr. Jonathan Crane, are you not?"

Batman resisted the urge to narrow his eyes, keeping his face a blank mask. He didn't find it surprising at all that Andrea knew of the man considering he had developed the fear toxin she used in her smoke. "We've met."

"Then you know he's been active in Gotham since the Arkham outbreak, albeit while keeping a low profile." He had suspected as much since the man hadn't made a nuisance of himself like some of the more high-profile escapees, like the Joker or Strange. "And now he's about to poison the city."

This time he did scowl. "How did you find out about this?"

There was a moment of silence before she answered him. "I commissioned Crane to develop more fear toxin while you were gone. He ended up making more than just the toxin; he made different strains of it, including a liquid version for injections. I ignored all of this until earlier this night. He's mass produced enough fear toxin to poison the Gotham Reservoir."

Batman's eyes widened. The reservoir had a direct connection to the city's water supply. If Crane released all of his toxin, the entire city would tear itself apart from fear. Immediately, he activated his comm link and barked, "Batman to all points: get to the Gotham Reservoir as soon as possible."

He didn't even bother waiting for a response. There would be time to brief the Network while in route. "Zana," he then spoke, though his tone was softer. "I want you to coordinate with everyone there. There's something I have to finish up here."

He got an immediate response. "_You sure about this?"_

"Positive. Go."

The vigilante then returned his attention to Andrea. "Why are you telling me this?" he had to ask.

Again, she hesitated. Because of this, he could hear banging sounds coming from the roof access. Undoubtedly, the police were trying to find out who had activated the spotlight. Andrea must have done something to the door to ensure they would have time to talk.

"You asked me once when this would all end. I didn't have an answer for you then; I do now. Crane has to be stopped and I can't do that without killing him." Hesitantly, she then raised a hand up and grabbed onto her mask, pulling it off. The hood of her cloak fell behind her head as her long hair flowed out of it. There was a look of pure regret on her face, her eyes beginning to water. "I never thought Crane would go this far when I hired him. Part of me should have realized it the moment he began finding reasons for me to stay. I...I'm trying to stop and this is the only way I know how."

This time it was Batman's turn to be silent. It seemed there was something left of the Andrea he once knew. It was just a small piece, but it was buried beneath the anger and anguish. He gave her a sharp nod in response before he pulled out his grapple and fire it towards the building he had used to spy on her from.

Before he left, though, he then said to her, "Thank you, Andy." And then he hit the retraction button and shot up through the air.


	26. The Reservoir

When he had returned to the reservoir, the first thing Crane checked on was the status of the toxin. He needed to know how much had been placed into the reservoir so that he could judge how soon he could release it all. The Phantasm's reluctance to engage in the plan was disappointing, but he was sure that once everything came to fruition, his colleague would see the proverbial light.

But why he was so determined to change the other man's mind, he did not know. Why was he becoming obsessed about it? Was it an attempt to fight against one of mankind's oldest fears, the fear of being alone?

That was an interesting question, but he felt there was something deeper to it. However, now was not the time to analyze it. If he knew the Phantasm as well as he thought, the killer would be following him here to make one last attempt. It was somewhat miraculous how he had gotten away the first time; the former researcher doubted he would have a second.

"This is the last truck," the driver informed him, the man looking uneasy as he glanced at Crane. "We're just about to unload it."

Nearby, he could see another one of his workers attaching an industrial hose to the truck. The other end was not connected to anything, but not for long Nearby was a panel with an access pipe, one that connected directly to the water supply and was typically used to pump fluoride.

It would serve the Scarecrow's purposes tonight.

"Once you've finished here, go back to the factory. Start making more," the fear-based criminal instructed. "I'll handle everything else here."

Turning away, he began to head towards a building, one that would lead into the bowels of this place. It wouldn't be long now.

* * *

Urgency had the arriving vigilantes on edge. Despite his return, this was the first time Batman had raised the alarm. In the middle of their own tasks, the members of the Network had to break off what they were doing, or finishing as quickly as they could, get across the river, and reach the Gotham Reservoir.

Not all had arrived, but time was of the essence. Batman noted with disappointment that not even half of the assembling vigilantes were here. Manhunter, Huntress, and Katana had only just showed up. Black Canary, Green Arrow, and the Batclan had yet to arrive. Unfortunately, they didn't have the time to wait.

Crane could release his poison at any second.

With Zatanna at his side, he ordered, "We need to move, now."

"Hold up, what the hell's going on?" Huntress interrupted, holding a hand up.

Not even stopping, the Dark Knight filled them in, "Jonathan Crane is poisoning the city's water supply with his fear toxin. Any minute now, he could release it and poison the whole city. We can't let him do that."

He could hear the silence from the women, but he did hear them following after him. They were grasping the severity of the situation quickly, much to his satisfaction.

"What's the plan?" Manhunter asked. "How are we going to stop this?"

Recalling what Andrea had told him, he answered, "Crane's not alone; he hired people to help him mass produce the toxin. We need to stop them from further tainting the water. That'll be your jobs. Take down anyone who resists. I'll go after Crane myself."

"Why do you get to go after the big bad? Think we can't handle him?" the brunette vigilante demanded.

"If he gets desperate, he could flood the water system with the tainted water before he's finished. I would prefer to be the one he focuses his attention on, only if it buys more time to stop him. No matter what, we need to do whatever it takes to stop Crane."

It didn't need to be said that killing the madman was out of the question. There was also the implication that the Dark Knight himself would take the blame should they fail.

Coming to an abrupt stop, the bat-themed vigilante looked up into the sky just as a red-clad figure flew overhead. The flying person abruptly fell to the ground in front of him, Batman not impressed by the theatrics. Already he knew who this was.

"Sorry I'm late. The others are coming as fast as they can," Red Robin reported. "What's going on?"

"Kid, we're already on the way to save the day," Huntress stated bluntly. "Keep up and we'll brief you on the way."

"No, you all go on ahead. I need to speak with Red Robin," Batman interrupted. While he wasn't pleased that Tim Drake was back in Gotham, for whatever reason it was, his mind was already moving ahead, thinking of options that were now available. One of the things he had done when he had made his return was look into all the capabilities of the Network, any improvements they had made to their arsenals, as well as developments in their skills.

While he got some looks from Zatanna and the Birds, his eyes were only on the teen as he squirmed somewhat under his gaze. However, the other vigilantes did as he ordered. Soon, it was just the two males by themselves.

"Uh, you want something?" Red Robin asked nervously.

"I need you to do something," Batman stated, a hand reaching towards his belt. "Listen carefully and don't ask questions. We're running out of time as it is."

* * *

Trucks dotted the area, a bunch of men in white work uniforms all over the place. The trucks sat idly, many of the men standing around either doing mundane activities to entertain themselves, or shooting the breezes between one another. Only a couple of them looked to be at work, monitoring a hose that connected one of the trucks to the dam wall that held the waters of the reservoir.

The flow of liquid could be heard in the hose, the storage container that the truck cab pulled humming as it pumped more and more of the toxin out. It would take some time do as they had only just begun. Once this truck was finished, though, they would be done and heading on back.

At least, that was the plan before a woman in a purple costume arrived, holding a bo staff in their faces threateningly. The men's eyes widened at the scowl the woman wore, her dark hair waving under a slight breeze.

"Okay, assholes, what's it going to be? Easy way, or the hard way?" Huntress demanded. While she had been tempted to go for a full frontal assault, the risk of alerting Crane was too great for that. After spotting these two loners here, she had requested that Zatanna send her right here, out of sight of the rest of the men so that she could get the metaphorical jump on them. She also made the request there be no pink smoke, or rainbows, or any cutesy thing the magical might throw out.

She fully expected a fight, because everyone chose the hard way.

To her surprise, the two white-clad men each took a step away from her, their hands held up in the air and their eyes wide. This...was not the kind of reaction she was expecting.

"Sheesh, lady, we're just doing what we were told," one of the men said hastily. "Don't hurt us, or anything!"

Huntress raised an eyebrow. Were they trying to play innocent? "You do know you're pumping poison into the water supply, right?"

If their eyes were wide before, they were practically saucers at that point. "Poison?! He never said anything 'bout no poison!"

Were...were they playing dumb? How did they not know what they were doing? Was Crane so reckless he wouldn't tell the people he was paying what they were really doing? "Pull the other one. I'm calling bullshit."

"Lady, he just offered to give me some cash if I would work for him. That's it!" one man exclaimed. "I just wanted some food and a hot shower! He never told me what the stuff we were making was! You have to believe me!"

Wow, they were really sticking to that story. She'd give props for the acting if she hadn't heard that ring of desperation in the man's voice. The guy really and truly wanted her to believe him. His body language also screamed that he had no intention of fighting her, the same with his buddy.

Were these guys some dupes that Crane had conned?

Without warning, a large hand clamped down on her shoulder, and instinctively she swung her bo staff at whoever was behind her. To her ire, whoever it was caught the upper part of the weapon and held it. Twisting her head around, she noted the large man behind her wore the same white uniform that everyone else here was wearing, but it was the distinctive nose that really caught her attention. It reminded her of some mook that may have at one time worked for her father. She couldn't single one out since, really, they kinda all blurred together after a while.

"Dis here is off limits, no masks 'llowed," the man growled and with a very thick Italian accent.

Oh yeah, this creep had definitely worked for her father before.

"The hell are you doing!" one of the men behind her demanded.

"Back ta work, mooks. Let me handle dis," the larger man growled. With attention diverted, Huntress knew an opportunity when she saw it.

So she took it, slipping her bo staff out of his grip and with a spin, slammed one end into the side of this knee. With a cry, the rough customer's legs buckled under him and down he went, completely at the vigilante's mercy. Whether he had worked with her father in the past or not, she didn't care, but this was more like it.

Time to start kicking ass.

* * *

"_We have some trouble out here! Some retards in capes, what do you want us to do about it?_"

Crane wasn't surprised; nothing was surprising in this city anymore. Those who were shocked needed to readjust their beliefs about Gotham.

"Stop them. Don't let any of them get past you," is what the Scarecrow answered. Tossing the handheld radio onto the desk of the reservoir's director, the master of fear left the small office to head off to complete his scheme. Beside the piece of furniture, the director's body crouched on the floor, leaning against the desk, his face frozen in horror while his hands clenched at his chest. His heart couldn't take the fear.

Down the hallway, the costumed man hurried, his pace fast and his strides long. He remembered the last time a man in a cape interrupted his operation and he was not going to allow any time for these interlopers to repeat the past.

Entering a room, large equipment that was currently silent lined the walls. Pumping machines, he was vaguely aware, and inoperable until he turned them on. Further into the dam, he would find what he needed to bring his latest experiment under way.

The greatest inducement of fear since the October 27th attack was at hand, and this time he would be able to observe it personally. Arkham would not confine him this time.

Movement up ahead brought him to a sudden stop. Narrowing his eyes behind his mask, Scarecrow waited to see who else was here. Alert, he studied the area he thought he had spied movement earlier...and there it was. This unexpected guest was moving out of the shadows, and the former psychologist readied his needle gauntlet.

He felt some surprise when it was none other than the Phantasm, re-emerging onto the scene once more. Unlike the last time, the killer had his cape pulled back over his shoulders, exposing the body hidden under the gray-colored cloth for all the world to see. That also meant that bladed right hand was clearly visible, designed to attract all attention once spotted.

"This goes no further, Crane," the Phantasm stated, not stopping in his march towards the fear-themed villain.

"I'm beginning to think you don't appreciate my efforts," Scarecrow accused his colleague. "I'm doing this to help you, my friend. No one will be able to stop you once I release the tainted water."

"I am not your friend, Dr. Crane. Nor do I drag others into my business against their will," the killer retorted. "I will not let you poison a city for your satisfaction, or your claim that you are helping me."

"Why do you care? Those people, those 'innocents' are meaningless. They scurry about their lives in fear, never seeing the grand picture for what it is," the needle-wielding man spat out, his hooded colleague stopping his approach for the moment, as if to hear him out one last time. "They're nothing to people like us, people who are greater than them. You and I, we have a grander purpose. We both understand fear in ways they never will. More importantly, we know how to use it for the weapon it truly is.

"But there is so much left to learn. What is fear truly capable of? And how can people like us better utilize it? This needs to happen, my friend. The knowledge gained is too priceless to ignore. The two of us? We're in this together against the world. Why can't we go back to how it used to be? You using the fruits of my labors to its full effect, and I providing you with whatever you need to become a god, no, a titan of fear? Just think what we could accomplish."

"I have no need for your delusions of grandeur. This was a business transaction and nothing more." The Phantasm resumed his march once more only now holding his bladed hand up. "I will end this here and now."

Were he a lesser man, he would have demanded to know why, why was the only person he felt understood fear like himself opposing him like this? A fellow practitioner resisting the siren call of fear and preventing the mass spread of it through a city already thoroughly terrorized.

No, persuasion would not work here. If it were possible for such a method to work, it already would have. Crane would have to show him then; show this man what he was offering.

Now there was a thought, why was he so dead set on including this other man in his future plans? Even he had to admit this was beyond fascination. Normally, he would have allowed this killer to go on his way a long time ago, so why this person? That was a question to answer later, after he had released his toxin into the water system.

The Phantasm was upon him suddenly, slashing with that blade. Crane ducked under it, even as he stab forth with his needles. The hooded murderer jumped back to evade, darting back in only as Scarecrow pulled his weaponized hand back. The pair engaged in a flurry of slashes and stabs, each one managing to dodge and evade the other before failing their counterattacks.

Scarecrow was not the most physically active individual, and this was a losing game for him. It would only be a matter of time until his physical inactivity reared its head and forced him into a fatal mistake. That could not happen.

At the same time, he was getting a different view of his colleague and he noted with a sharp eye how much slimmer the man really was. Also curvier. That didn't make sense. And why was he noticing such physical traits?

Even though he knew it was a waste, he triggered an aerosol blast of his gaseous fear toxin, spewing it into the Phantasm's face. It would serve as a smokescreen and allow him the chance to try and slip away. The switch up ahead was so close, yet so far.

The Phantasm was swiping at the gas-based poison with his gloved hand, trying to unobstruct his vision. Already, Crane was putting some distance between them, moving at a measured pace. Move too slow and any progress made was undone by a faster opponent. Move to fast, and you stood to make a mistake like tripping and in effect undo all progress made there as well.

Maybe it was because of this that he noticed how the Phantasm paused and glanced over his shoulder. That directed the Scarecrow's attention to a new noise, that of rapidly approaching footsteps. Perhaps his old colleague recognize whoever it was because he was covering himself in the fear toxin-laced smoke that he knew the hooded man to use. As predicted, the killer was fleeing, but in his place, the incoming interloper arrived.

Scarecrow knew this person; even now he had the flashbacks to that cell in Gotham. That dark colors, the horned cowl, those blank white eyes, hell, even the aggressive stance was recognized.

You never forgot the person who electrocuted you with a toilet.

"This ends here Crane," the Batman declared as he arrived on the scene. The voice—_the voice!_—that only emphasized that this was indeed that man who had stopped him back at the Phizer plant. The same man whose body was thrown into the streets broken and bloodied by Bane. The words he spoke triggered a rage in Crane's head and only four words popped up in his head.

_Like hell it did._

Forgoing any fear-based assault, Scarecrow went for one more basic. He pulled out a standard handgun and opened fire, forcing the vigilante to jump for cover. Choosing not to stay, Scarecrow ran out of the room and deeper into the pumping station.

Time was up and he needed to complete his plan immediately.

Whatever it takes to do so.

* * *

And with that, Red Robin had completed the job that Batman had assigned to him. While he was used to the explosives used in his throwing projectiles, which still needed a better name, the kind the Dark Knight had placed in his hands were definitely a step or ten above what he was able to handle.

The set of instructions given to him were how to turn it on and then where he needed to put it. Also finish as soon as possible; nothing else needed to be said after that.

So for the next several minutes had been heart pounding, because Batman was depending on him to succeed here and the fact it was him, the prodigal...vigilante who was being the one depended on, he did not want to let one of the greatest heroes in the world down.

From there, he had found the place where the reservoir connected to the city via a lot of large pipes. Who knew how much water was rushing around in those things? Ignoring them, Red Robin had placed the explosives where the pipes exited the dam-like structure that was the water plant, and activated them as he had been told.

Good, hopefully they wouldn't be needed. In meantime, he would get as far away as he could, maybe help out up above if there was any fighting.

* * *

Taking down the first guy was easy, especially since he thought he was all that and had no clue to how well Huntress could fight. The downside was that he brought the other members of security to try and take her down.

It looked like there were nine others, all of them big and burly. Had Crane stereotyped them, or something? Whatever, the main point was that there were only nine hostiles. The rest of the white-dressed men were backing away, trying to make themselves small, or fleeing. Fighters they were not.

Speaking of fights…

One of the large men came charging at her, fist raised up and his intentions obvious. Like a skilled fighter, she waited until he threw his punch before she slipped out of the way, swinging her bo staff into his gut. Tensing her arms, she gave her wrists a twist and used the larger man's momentum to pick him up off the ground and the throw him, causing the big guy to land on the pavement face first.

A second man who was running at her slowed his charge dramatically, his eyes wide. While his shock left him open, Huntress' attention was on the men behind him, two of them pulling out handguns. Great, some or all of them were armed.

Cue Katana rushing in and slicing the guns with one of those short swords she was using nowadays. Right on time, like usual. Even as the barrels of the guns were falling off, the sword-wielding vigilante was driving the butt of one of her swords into a man's face, taking him down in an instant. Should have called out "timber!" while it happened.

Off to a side, Manhunter jumped into the fray, swinging her staff low and tripping three of the guards. Diverting their attention towards her, Manhunter held her staff at the ready, waiting for the three to pick themselves up. Two were quick to do so, their hands balled into fists. The third was taking his time, and by that he was pulling out a pistol.

Credit was due when the Bird of Prey went for the gun-wielder first, somehow cutting in-between the two guys between her and the greater threat. The gunman was getting into a crouch, starting to turn when Manhunter's staff cracked against the gun hand and knocked the weapon away. A booted foot slammed into the man's face quite viciously and down he went again.

Turning her attention back to man closest to her, Huntress noted the a second had come up to the guy's side, backing him up. She narrowed her eyes as she drew up a plan in her head on what to do.

Suddenly, she became aware of the truck beside her and the hose that connected it to the dam. The vehicle's hum penetrated her thoughts, and how she had something else she needed to do.

Balancing her staff in one hand while holding it defensively, she slipped out a handle from which a sharp blade snapped out. Spinning on her heel, she rushed in the direction opposite of the two men. If her hearing was right, she could hear them running after her.

Holding her knife out, she swung it forward and underhanded, slicing it into the large hose that continued to pump its contents merrily. The material that made up the hose didn't stand a chance and the cutting edge of the blade sliced through it without any resistance. No sooner had that happened that the liquid-based fear toxin spewed out, drenching the pavement as the trunk continued to pump it out.

Huntress was on the other side of the growing puddle by then, and her pursuers were running through it. Hmm, they weren't slipping in it, probably because the concrete was saturated enough. Oh well, back to what worked.

Already retracting and putting the knife back where she kept it, she returned her hand back to her staff and pulled a one-eighty, swinging the long pole along. The guy to the right ducked, but the one on the left wasn't as quick. Her staff caught him in the side of the face and forced his head into the cab of the truck. A cry from one of the bystanding men reminded her of the spectators here who hadn't joined the fight, making her think they really were telling the truth earlier.

However, that meant nothing as the man who had avoided her swing pounced on her, getting his large, beefy hands on her weapon. Huntress adjusted her grip and pushed back against the larger man's strength, refusing to let him have her best metal friend here.

Time to have some fun with this guy.

* * *

Batman didn't remember Crane being this fast. Based on his memory of the man, he had never seen him run before.

But he knew exactly where he was heading and that could not be allowed. Pulling out a bola, he spun it for a second before throwing it at the fleeing criminal, aiming for the legs. Crane looked over his shoulder at the most optimal second and then did the most surprising thing that the Dark Knight hadn't expected.

He jumped over the bola.

Hmm, out of everyone he had chased, this was a first and it was done by Crane of all people.

Finishing his jump, Crane turned his body enough to fire a couple shots back at him. Thanks to the poor lighting in the corridor, Batman couldn't accurately predict where the shots were aimed. His evasive maneuvers, as a result, were more time consuming and had him covering a larger amount of space which slowed him down incrementally.

Not good; he couldn't let this madman arrive at his destination.

Arms pumping at his sides, he quickened his pace, his black cape flapping behind him in his wake. Up ahead, Crane turned a corner at a T-intersection, disappearing from sight as he took a left. Batman sped up, skidding his feet against the linoleum floor as he struggled to make the turn while losing the least amount of speed. His shoulder impacted the wall, but he was able to brush it aside thanks to the body armor's padding.

Dead ahead, the Scarecrow's shrinking dark figure raced away. Pushing down on his legs, the vigilante gave chase. The hallway was a blur, his attention only on the fleeing man. The seconds were moving too quickly for his liking as every one that passed with Crane on the run meant one less second he had to stop him.

The chase left the hallway, entering a large room filled with various computer panels and monitors, pipes running along the walls alongside insulated cables. Batman was closing in on his quarry, his personal fitness better than Crane's and allowing him to shorten the distance between them quickly.

Unfortunately, that was when the Scarecrow began skidding to a stop, his booted feet squealing against the floor. Reaching what looked like a circuit box that extended from a wall quite prominently, the former psychologist held a hand against it, fingers pressed up against a black, innocuous switch.

"Stay back!" Crane roared at him, snapping his head around to face the Dark Knight. Coming to a stop, the vigilante allowed his cape to fall over his shoulders, hiding his arms from sight. Though he appeared calm and grim on the outside, on the inside he was cursing. "Stay where you are! Don't take another step closer!"

He could hear the exertion in the other masked man's voice, the thin chest practically heaving from all the physical activity. Thanks to the burlap mask, the researcher's eyes were hidden, but the vigilante was sure that they were trained on him.

"There's nowhere to go, Crane," he stated. "You're not going to get away."

"Not quite," Scarecrow retorted. "Right now, you're not to take another step towards me. Do so, and I flick this little switch here. I know, it doesn't look like much, but if you knew the power it held… You stay where you are. Stay and watch as everything I've worked for becomes cruel reality."

"Put your hands in the air, Crane. I will not tell you a second time," the Dark Knight stated, his eyes narrowed as he took in the other man's body language, fully alert for any shift, or change that would signal any major movement.

"Right. Not this time. You don't have a toilet with you to threaten me this time," Crane chortled. "I'm the one with the power and you're at my mercy. I'm quite enjoying the reversal, aren't you?"

"This is your last chance."

"Or what? You'll beat me up? Send me to Arkham to rot in a cage? Not this time, Batman. No, this time, I win. And if you're really serious about saving Gotham, you'll stand aside and let me do this. You of all people stand to gain the most from my actions tonight," Crane declared.

He highly doubted that. Based on everything he knew about Crane, he held himself and whatever he did in high regard. Everything had a grand purpose, one that made him more important just by being involved.

"I fail to see where poisoning seven million people would help me," he growled.

"Who cares about those little people and their little lives?" Crane spat out. "I'm talking about someone bigger. You know who I'm talking about: Bane."

What did Bane have anything to do with this? The vigilante went on to demand an answer for that question. "What does he have to do with this?"

"Who do you think will also be affected? You can't tell me you haven't considered gaining any edge you can over that brute," Scarecrow taunted. Due to his mask, it was impossible to tell if he was smirking, though his tone of voice was smug. "Think about it: with my toxin in his system, he'll be vulnerable. You will finally be able to take him down, save your city, and be the hero like you always are. You'll need every advantage; he did beat you once before. What's to say he won't do it again?"

As much as he didn't want to, he had to admit there was some logic to what Crane was saying. When he had faced Bane all those months ago, he'd relied solely on his skills and fighting prowess combined with an affinity for improvisation. None of it had been enough and the price had been him being decommissioned, paralyzed for weeks on end. Bane was simply too strong and intelligent to take head-on.

What was the harm in gaining an edge, no matter what it was?

The answer came to him immediately. "If you think I'm going to let you expose innocent people to your toxin, I don't care what advantage I could get. I'll take down Bane my way, without your help."

"Oh, ever the bleeding heart," Scarecrow spat. "No wonder you lost the first time. You can't do it, can you? You can't go all out, doing everything you can for precious victory. No, you have to have morals to hold you back. They're what's going to get you killed next time, and I'm willing to bet like everyone else, you too have a fear of death."

"I don't fear death," Batman retorted, and nothing felt truer than those words in that moment.

"Lie to me, but don't lie to yourself," was the answering taunt. "There's only one thing we both can agree on and that is Bane is not afraid of you. Everyone else might be, but not him. And he's the one you need to be afraid of you, more than ever. Otherwise, it'll end the same way it did last time."

"I wouldn't worry about Bane," he countered. "He'll be handled in due time. When _I'm_ ready."

"And when will that be?" Crane mocked. "Your associates have been doing a bang-up job. Do you really think Gotham can take anymore? This is only the final push to give in to its fears."

"Not gonna happen. This is your one and final chance to end this before I take matters into my own hands."

"Your hands? You're all the way over there. You can try to throw one of those bat things you have, but do you think it'll be able to reach me in time? I need a simple flick of my fingers. You need to do so much more than that. But do tell me, Dark Knight, how are you going to save the day this time?" Scarecrow sneered.

The vigilante gave a smirk. He withdrew a hand from under his cape, holding a small cylinder-shaped device, a thumb held over a small button. "Like this."

He pressed the button.

* * *

An explosion ripped across the dam, a thunderous roar tearing through the night. Pieces of the damn were flung into the air, twisting metal screeching as it turned against its will

From atop the structure, Huntress whipped her head around, her eyes wide as she caught the sight of the giant fireball spreading out in all directions, licking the sides of the concrete structure. She could feel violent tremors running through the concrete under her feet and she could only wonder what had just happened.

Judging by how they were trying to stop a city from being poisoned, she couldn't tell if an explosion was a good thing, or a bad thing. Usually they were bad so what did this all mean?

She got an answer when a certain flying teen dropped down nearby. "That was us, don't worry about it!" Red Robin told her, his voice loud enough that it carried over. "Looks like he had to use the backup plan!"

The backup plan? Blowing up the reservoir was the backup plan? Oh, she was going to have a word with that guy later, but right now, the objective was making sure nobody got away first.

* * *

"What was that?" Scarecrow asked warily, his finger still over the switch. "What did you do?"

"What I had to do to stop you. I blew up the pipes that connect the city with the reservoir," Batman stated, lowering his hand that still held the detonator, pocketing the device.

"You WHAT!?" Crane exclaimed, shock coloring his voice. "But...but...do you know what you've done?! You've taken away Gotham's water supply! You've _crippled_ your own city!"

"Better crippled than poisoned by you," the Dark Knight retorted, taking his first step towards the madman. "You're done, Crane. No one is ever going to suffer through your experiment."

"You're lying! You couldn't have!" Crane sounded as if he was grasping at straws, trying to deny the reality that the vigilante had given him.

"You can press that switch anytime you want; it will accomplish nothing," he calmly continued, verbally attacking the man.

"You...what have…" By now Crane was sputtering. His hand had fallen away from the now useless switch, a part of him believing the vigilante while another fought to remain in denial.

"What's the matter, Crane? You're not chatty anymore," Batman said, before allowing a small smirk to curl his lips. "Could it be that you're...scared?"

Crane went ramrod straight and the vigilante could imagine eyes full of hatred glaring at him. What he didn't have to imagine was Crane giving a roar as he leaped at the Dark Knight, a hand held in front of him where four very prominent needles extended from the fingers.

Waiting, Batman acting at the last second, catching the crazed scientist by that extended arm and throwing him over his shoulder. Crane's momentum sent him flying over the vigilante, his body crashing into one of the large panels that filled the room, his body falling onto and bouncing off the floor once before coming to a stop.

Turning to fully face the masked lunatic, Batman calmly strolled to the man as he was pushing himself up. His right hand made a jerking motion, and the four needles that he had intended on stabbing into the still-standing crime-fighter was pulled out of his body. Crane held the hand in front of his masked face, his body beginning to heave as he took deep breaths.

Based on what he had been told about Crane from the Network, Batman had a pretty good idea of what had happened, which is why he grabbed the Scarecrow by the front of his redesigned outfit and pulled him up, forcing the thinner man to get a good look at him. From this distance, he could see through the eye holes, Crane's eyes wide and his pupils dilating. What was it that this fear-obsessed man saw?

Whatever it was, it had to be terrifying, because Crane let out a bloodcurdling scream, one that echoed throughout room and the hallways beyond.

* * *

A strong sedative was enough to keep the terrified Crane knocked out as he was dragged by the leg down the hallway. Loud screaming got old after a while and keeping the poisoned man out of it would make it easier to put him back in his cell at Arkham. Blackgate would be preferable, but the prison was still in the process of being repaired.

In the meantime, he needed to find out the extent of the damage made to the reservoir, as well as the status on the other vigilantes. How many people Crane had dragged into his scheme also needed to be found out. The extent of this threat was too great and there hadn't been enough time to investigate it.

However, all of that would have to wait a moment. Someone was standing up ahead, blocking his way.

It wasn't any of the other vigilantes; they would have been preferable.

Coming to a stop, Batman stared down the Phantasm. Of course she showed up; he was far from surprised. He could see how Andrea was staring down at the unconscious Crane. He could care less about what was running through her mind; if he had to, he would protect the madman from his ex.

But Andrea said nothing and the silence grated on the Dark Knight's nerves.

"What do you want?" he demanded when Andrea made no move to say, or do anything.

Her shoulders slumped, though her cape hid it well. Her hooded head bowed forward, as if the costumed woman was gazing at the floor, avoiding his eyes. "You have every right not to trust me."

Where was this coming from? Was she not here to kill once again, in spite of that confession on the GCPD rooftop?

"If...if there is anyone you can trust," Andrea continued, "trust Lucius Fox."

He had not been expecting that. Why was she bringing up Lucius, and why now? What did he have to do with anything? "What are you talking about?" he demanded, taking a step closer to his ex.

"There are threats you cannot see right now. Be careful who you keep close," Andrea said cryptically before enveloping herself in her smoke.

Batman was more than tempted to demand more information of her, to get more answers that she did not appear to be willing to share. However, as she vanished from sight, he knew it was a moot point. She was already gone and giving chase would be a waste of time. Plus, he still had to take care of Crane.

As the smoke cleared and revealed an empty hallway once more, Batman continued dragging the unconscious man behind him, determined to bring this long night to an end.


	27. Into The Fire

One leg dangled over the ledge of the building, the other propped up so that the girl could wrap her arms around her bent knee. Forlornly, Batgirl stared at the gloomy city before her, contemplating whether she should rest her cheek on her knee.

She had heard about the battle at the reservoir. She had heard about the explosion that had ruined it. And she had heard how her father had put himself front stage and center for a fight with the mastermind behind it all.

She wasn't sure how much more she could take.

Did she really not matter that much to him? That he would willingly put himself into the most dangerous parts of a fight was a blatant disregard of her feelings? She had told him this. She knew he had heard her. Yet, he was still doing the same thing. It was so frustrating.

Despite her depressed thoughts, Batgirl was not oblivious to her surroundings. The sound of footsteps—multiple ones—reached her ears. There were...three of them by her count. Taking into account how light they sounded, that indicated each person had a high center of gravity and low body weights. That eliminated the men, especially Batman since he was the closest thing to silent.

She felt their presence behind her a moment later. One even knelt down next to her. Already she recognized the familiar, warm presence of Zatanna. "You doing okay out here?" she asked.

Turning her head, Batgirl looked at the dark-haired woman, who was looking at her warmly, compassionately. "You know how I feel," she grumbled listlessly.

Because of her turned head, she caught sight of the other two women out of the corner of her eye. One was Huntress, who looked as if she were here just to be supportive. That was nice of her. The other was one she wasn't too familiar with—Black Canary. Why she was here, she wasn't sure.

"So you're still out of sorts with big daddy Bat," Huntress summarized for her, stating it rather than taking a jab. "Believe me, we've all been there."

That wasn't as comforting as the purple-wearing woman thought it was. She wasn't supposed to be family with him. "I'm getting tired of him doing this," she said. "We talk and we talk and he still does what he wants. I'm getting sick of it."

"Again, been there," Huntress replied.

Batgirl twisted around so that she could better face the black-haired woman. "You don't live with him. You don't have the same relationship, so you have no idea what this is like."

"And what is your relationship?" Black Canary questioned, crossing her arms beneath her bosom, her hands cupping her elbows. "I'm certain I'm last to the party here, but it would help to know."

Zatanna rested a hand on the girl's shoulder, a comforting one too. "Batman has adopted her. They're family."

Because of the angle she was turned, she saw the other two women widen their eyes with shock. "You're kidding me!" Huntress claimed.

"Sadly, no," the girl grumbled.

"This isn't a good thing, I take it?" Black Canary asked then, clearly uncomfortable with the direction this conversation had gone.

"No, yes...I don't know." Batgirl hung her head then. "I thought it was great when he showed me the papers. I thought so many good things. But after Bane and what's going on now, I just don't know what to think anymore. Now he has an actually child of his own, so I don't see where I fit in anymore. And he just disregards my concerns as if they mean nothing!"

The two vigilantes stared at her before simultaneously turning their heads to give Zatanna odd looks. "Don't air out dirty laundry," the dark-haired woman reprimanded gently before she looked to the women. "That's a long story and one you're better off not knowing."

"Yeah, sure," Huntress said after a moment before returning her attention to Batgirl. "So you're having family issues."

"That's...yes," she admitted.

"And your...adopted dad...isn't listening to you."

"Yes."

"Then I need to introduce you to my family," Huntress said. "My family is full of mobsters and criminals. They don't listen to anyone on general principle. I can't tell you the number of times I talked to my father about it and he either told me to shut up and mind my own business, or threatened to have me whacked. So as you can see, we have our problems."

That...was similar to what she was going through. Not exactly, but close. She then turned her attention to Black Canary. "What about you?" she asked.

"My dad was a cop," the blonde woman told her. "So he was rarely home. Every day, when he was going to work, I'd kiss him goodbye because I'd never know if he was coming home that night. I'd try to stay up too, but he always came in after I fell asleep."

That too was similar. She then looked to Zatanna. She didn't even bother asking the question.

"My family was the family magic show, so I had a lot of unofficial uncles and aunts," Zatanna said. "My dad was the star of the show and he was always working to make sure the show was the best he it could be. I didn't even know all of his side-gigs; and by that I mean all the supernatural stuff he handled. I didn't find out about it until I started my own little foray into magic."

The secrets, the disregard, the compulsion to duty—perhaps these people knew a little of what was going on with her. That made her feel better for some reason. She wasn't alone.

"Now, you're a little different," Huntress admitted then. "I mean, you have Batman as an actual daddy Bat. That has to change a lot of things."

For some reason, Batgirl didn't like feeling singled out by that. "It's like some of each of you," she defended. "He pushes me aside; he always goes out to do his job; and he keeps secrets."

"I'm not sure what I was expecting. I can kinda see that though."

"And it's all of that that's irritating you?" Black Canary asked.

Batgirl sighed. "Yes, I suppose it is. It's just, he's finally recovered from what Bane did to him, but instead of taking it easy and slow, he's going too fast and acting as if it never happened. I did everything I could to keep him safe and then he turns around and it's like he doesn't care."

There were sympathetic looks on the women's faces. A part of Batgirl appreciated the gestures for what they were.

But then a voice cut through the air, ruining the moment.

"Attachment is only a restraint that will hold you back."

As one, the group of women whipped their heads to look behind them. Standing between them and the roof access was another woman, one Batgirl had never seen before. She wore a long coat, its black ends dancing with the breeze that suddenly blew in. Her short, dark hair was ruffled, but stayed in its stylistic state.

Alarms were going off in Batgirl's head. Until this woman had spoken, she hadn't felt her approach. One moment she had not been there, the next she was. Yet, she stood there as if she had been listening to them the entire time.

Huntress was fully facing this woman a hand hovering by the handle of her crossbow, ready to grab it and pull it out at a moment's notice. Zatanna was standing up, arms beginning to hover in front of her, the same with Black Canary and her fists. "Who the hell are you?" the purple-wearing woman demanded.

The woman began to saunter towards them, her movements allowing the red of her bodysuit to be revealed. "I was certain the Detective would have mentioned me by now. It would seem he had a lapse in judgement."

Yanking out her crossbow, Huntress took aim at her. "Don't take another step."

The woman did as ordered, but the amused look on her face did not vanish. This concerned Batgirl even as she rose up to her feet. "Allow me to introduce myself," she then volunteered. "I am Lady Shiva.

"And if you value your life, you will lower that crossbow."

* * *

"Ever feel like you get gypped?" Nightwing asked hypothetically. "I think we need to start investing in gear that lets us fly too. That way we don't miss out on any action anymore."

The whole thing at the reservoir was over and done with, though they were having to deal with the fallout from that. They couldn't let anyone drink that water like it came from Mexico, but they couldn't let those same anyones find out they had no water anymore. Oracle was so busy nowadays it seemed.

"I know a guy who can get you all hooked up," Red Robin told him, him being the messenger of what went down. "That earpiece you have, that's your line to him. Use it."

"I don't think Oracle would like to hear you call her a guy," he told his former partner wryly, turning back to the city as he continued with the mission of finding Deadshot.

"What she doesn't know—"

"Won't hurt you. I know the joke."

You know that saying about speaking of the devil and he shall appear? Well, that seemed to apply here because no sooner had he stopped speaking when the proverbial devil happened to start talking in his ear.

"_Hello boys, I have a hot one for you and the girls if you're interested._"

"What's up, Oracle?" Nightwing said, proud that he didn't sound hasty while he spoke.

"_Police scanner is heating up and the boys in blue are on the move. They have a tip on a Bane operation and they're planning to crash it. Interested?_"

"While the cops are trying to bust us at the same time?" he asked rhetorically.

"Maybe she wants us to keep an eye on them, back them up if needed?" Red Robin suggested.

"I'd say they'd need it, but I don't think Spoiler here would be keen on saving their bacon if it came to it," Bluebird remarked, butting in while thumbing over at her fellow vigilante. "I think one ride in the paddy wagon was enough."

"Laugh it up 'til you're the one in cuffs," Spoiler huffed as she crossed her arms.

"_Is that a pass I'm hearing? I could let one of the Birds know_," Oracle piped up.

"No, no, we got it," Nightwing answered her, and this time he did sound hasty. Damn.

"_Try and make sure people come out of this alive. That might go a long way in earning you some good will_," Oracle said. Then she added, "_Also, don't refer to me as a guy, Red Robin._"

Said Red Robin had a spooked look on his face, one that said "how'd she know?"

"Guess you weren't quiet enough," Bluebird teased, giving the masked teen an elbow to his side.

Deciding to ignore the ribbing, Nightwing rolled his eyes and asked, "What's the address?"

Some time later found the foursome at the address giving to them. The cops had beaten them here already, and that was easy to tell as they noticed dark figures moving about, keeping to the shadows. The fact that they were all bulky gave away who they were; ninjas didn't give away such tells and Bane's mercenaries would have crashed through the front door by now.

"Alright, I'll watch the front, you girls get the back, Red Robin, pick a side and stick with it. Don't do anything risky, but move only if you think they need some help. More importantly, don't get hurt, don't get caught." There, that was the strategy he laid out and he waited a moment for anyone to disagree with him. When there wasn't any, he ordered, "Move out."

Much to his pride, the trio of youths darted off, keeping quiet without making noise. Well, noise when compared to the average person and not someone like Batman. He remained where he was, his sight trained on the location that was supposed to be the site of the latest GCPD raid. He allowed a few minutes to pass before he contacted his teammates to get status updates, as well as any up-to-date intel.

Did any of them hear and noises? Any sounds of doors being kicked open? Loud voices? Gunfire?

Just as he thinking of that last one, he heard several shots fired inside the building. Tensing up, he trained his sight on the building itself, waiting to make sure he had confirmation about whether or not he heard what he had heard. From one of the windows, he saw some rapid flashes occur, each flash so instant, if you blinked you would have missed them.

Those flashes only occurred, as far as the vigilante knew, with gunfire.

"I'm hearing and seeing gunshots," he reported over the comm. "Looks like the cops ran into someone and are fighting it out. What's your six?"

"_Hearing the same thing as you_," Red Robin answered immediately.

"_Same here. What do you want to do?_" Bluebird said for both her and Spoiler.

It sounded like there were machine guns going off in there. The fact that the action was going on already was what stopped him from making an immediate decision. Usually when guns were involved, the clan was already inside and able to end such threats quickly. This time, the shooting had already begun and if they went in, they would all be running into an active shooting range.

Which wouldn't stop someone like Batman.

"I'll act as a diversion, you guys come in from behind," he planned out. "Try to protect any cops you come across, run if they try to go after you. No beating them up; worst thing you do is knock their guns out of their hands. I'm going in."

Ignoring any affirmatives or complaints, he made a quick zipline, aiming for above one of the windows, and then zipped on over. He curled his legs, his knees up against his chest and his feet raised up enough that when he reached the glass, he kicked them forward, using them as a ram to break through.

Letting go of the zipline, he went into a roll, hands slipping into his belt and pulling out a couple birdarangs. Completing the roll, he threw the two of them to either side of him. The vigilante was pushing himself up, spinning around simultaneously while pulling out his escrimas, and taking in the details of the situation.

What he found was that he was in a room with several cops, two of the assault rifles knocked off aim, but three aiming right at him. There were no signs of any bad guys here, yet he could have sworn that he saw gunfire from this very room. Oh wait, the ceiling had a bunch of small holes in it. What was...oh shit.

"Freeze!" one of the cops yelled, and Nightwing leapt backwards, his back running into a partially open door. That was perhaps a blessing in disguise; that meant he didn't have to crash through it, or worse be stopped in his tracks. Bullets were fired after him, but he was able to dodge down the hallway he found himself in.

Feet slamming against the floor and arms pumping at his side, Nightwing sprinted down the hallway, giving himself three seconds at the max to put some distance between himself and the cops behind him before crashing into the nearest door. It was just in time; he could hear bullets pelt the area he just left, one ricocheting and whizzing by his head.

Bringing a hand to his ear, he demanded, "Status!"

"_Um, I know you said nothing about it, but Bluebird had to tase a couple_—_jeez! Don't shoot so close to me!" Spoiler responded after a few seconds. "I'm not seeing any bad guys. What should we do?_"

"_Can't talk. Cops are all over the place_," Red Robin reported. "_Is it just me, or is something else going on here?_"

Red Robin was onto something. Something about all this stunk to high heaven. "We need to regroup, preferably outside. Do what you have to, but get—"

Before he could finish, one of the walls blew up, debris made of plaster and sheetrock going all over the place. As dust began to fill the air, the vigilante spun around to face this latest development, escrimas held up in front of him. Beams of light pierced through the dust, and dark figures emerged, all of them armored cops.

One approached the masked man, a mustache prominent on the cop's face while he trained his rifle on the vigilante. Barely, he was able to make out a name that was sewn into a pocket flap, a name that looked like it was spelled P...E...I...T? There was a wrinkle or fold running right through the middle of it so he might be missing a letter.

"We got one boys," the mustached man declared. "Alright cocksucker, put the sticks down, get on your knees, and put your hands behind your head."

That stink mentioned earlier? While he wasn't physically smelling anything other than plaster, metaphorically was a another thing altogether. No bad guys, only cops, and they were firing on them. Was...could this have been something else other than a raid?

Suddenly, this all started to look like some kind of trap.

"I'm not repeating myself, asshole," the mustached man yelled at him. "On your knees!"

"We're only trying to help!" Nightwing yelled right back at the cop.

"Tell that to Bubba in Blackgate," Peit, if that was his real name, retorted. "I don't care what you're trying to do. You want to be a cop, get a badge. This is our city, we're the law. I'm the law."

Jeez, talk about being anti-vigilante. Nightwing attempted to take a step back, but Peit here fired a round at him, the bullets grazing his shoulder. That caused him to freeze up more than ever.

"There's no escape here, punk," the cop growled as he was flanked by two more cops.

That was what it was starting to look like.

Peit then took a step forward, the lights from the city pouring through a window and falling over him. "I think he's starting to resist. I think he's reaching for a gun."

What the… Oh shit, this was going exactly where he thought it was going. Looked like someone didn't plan on bringing any prisoners. The fact that the other cops weren't speaking could only mean that they were in on this. Okay, how was he going to get out of this one?

"He's going for his gun!" Peit called out raising up his rifle as he trained his aim on the vigilante. "He's—"

Suddenly, Peit's head jerked to a side, and blood splattered onto the floor and wall. The cop was only starting to fall to the floor, but everyone's attention was turning towards the window where a visible hole in the glass could be seen.

"Bill!" one of the cops cried out.

"Sniper!" another yelled.

Sniper? Deadshot! It had to be. Snapping his gaze to the window for a brief instance, the next second had him running back the way he came. He was just reentering the hallway and he had raised a leg up, kicking his foot out to break through a door opposite to the room he had recently left.

"Got a bead on Deadshot. Get out of here and head…" he did a quick calculation in his head, "east! Head east! He's in that direction! Find him before he gets away!"

* * *

He did not need Nightwing screaming in his ear right now; the cop shooting at him had all of his attention right now. However, learning they had a hot lead on their sniper was enough to send Red Robin into action. Thanks to the experiences he had in Jump, you could say he had a little recklessness growing in him.

By that, he meant throwing a few—Christ—birdarangs up into the ceiling and detonating them, giving him a makeshift exit.

This was going to be close, he fired off a short burst from his boot, launching him up into the hole. If it was too strong, he could go too high and probably break his neck against the ceiling on the upper floor, and if too weak, he wouldn't reach the hole and thus waste a boost. Needless to say, a lot practice had given him the best idea on how strong a burst he needed and he only had to drag his feet through the hole and to minor safety.

The cops would be on his heels, though, so he headed to the first thing that looked promising—another window. Crashing through it, his arms covering his head and face from shards of broken glass, he felt gravity pull down on him, which had him activating both his cape and a second rocket-like blast from his boots, sending him high up into the sky and over the building from which the fake raid was taking place.

_Okay, which was east...direction was so hard when you were this high up, but okay, that building over there was north so…_

Getting his bearings, he adjusted flight and headed in the direction Nightwing had informed him of. This building was of roughly the same height, so there were plenty of places to hide in. A shame the sniper wasn't on the roof; that would have made this much easier. However, there were only so many places a sniper could be if they wanted to give their location away.

Fortunately, Red Robin had a little cheat in his mask, another lovely gift from Oracle. Some pressure from a finger on a certain part of it activated the infrared features of the mask's lens, allowing him to search for the heat signatures of any living organisms in the area. Allowing the shift from regular, normal vision to heat sensing, the teen vigilante began his search.

Okay, the building next to the site of the fake raid was not it. He had spotted several individuals, and pets, in it, but nothing that gave away that there was someone whom he would suspect was their sniper. Everyone was either sitting or standing or lying down, or in any kind of activity that was in no way typical of a person with a gun. Onto the next one then.

The second building was not the one either, though it was a bit obvious since it was smaller than the first one. The third one, though, was where he thought he found something. Scanning through all the red-colored human forms, he finally found one that was crouching. Pressing down on another area of his mask, he zoomed in on the red-colored figure and was able to notice a secondary source of heat.

This second source was oblong, almost resembling a gun.

Of course, if this sniper was as good as they say, he'd have some distance between himself and his targets. Alright, what was the name of this street? Okay, got it.

"Everyone, head over to Sanders and Barnett. It's the...seventh story on the west side of the building. I'm going in, gonna stall until you all get there."

"_Red Robin, don't do something stupid!_" Nightwing warned with a sharpness in his voice.

"Do what you need to do and get out of there," Red Robin retorted as he angled his glide and began his downward descent. As he grew closer to the building in question, he adjusted his flight trajectory so that he was going into a sharp fall. He was getting closer and closer to that red, crouching figure, and he was really going to need to time this right…

As he passed the eighth story of the building, he pulled his arms back, using his cape more as a parachute to kill his momentum. Simultaneously, he pulled his legs in close, kicking them out and bracing them as he used the appendages as a battering to ram to crash through the glass of the window. One nanosecond from impact, he turned off the electric current flowing through his cape and let momentum carry him the rest of the way.

Glass shattered, Red Robin leaning back slightly so that he didn't smack his face or head into the window frame. He felt a second impact run up through his legs, the crouching figure bringing up his weapon to use a shield. Any resistance ended quickly as the person let themselves get pushed away, the vigilante using the weapon turned shield as a springboard to jump back and flip in the air, much as he had seen Nightwing do many a time before.

Quickly, he turned off the infrared vision as he landed on his feet, keeping sight of the now-exposed assassin who was done skidding against the wooden floor. He was barely coming to a stop as his rifle was lowered, the barrel aimed directly at the teen.

It was practically reflex at this point; Red Robin brought an arm up, cape draped over the limb, and activated his cape. No sooner as he had done so, the assassin fired and the masked teen felt the impact of the bullet as it struck his barrier. He winced as he heard the bullet ricochet once, no twice, before ending by getting stuck in wall.

"Not bad; that's the first time a ricochet of mine missed," the assassin commented. "Something tells me that cape of yours can take some punishment, can't it?"

Peeking over his arm, Red Robin took in the sniping killer known as Deadshot. The almost silver colored mask that covered his head was blank with the exception of a red, circular, targeting device over his left eye. The only thing of note was the long rifle, sniping scope plainly visible on top of it, and it was aimed right at him.

It was less than a heartbeat, but the masked teen took full advantage of it; he pulled out and threw a birdarang, intending to get rid of the gun, or failing that knock its aim off. Deadshot proved his name true by shooting the throwing projectile out of the air without moving the barrel of his rifle a millimeter.

It was a good thing that this particular birdarang had a little something extra in it then. No sooner had the bullet pierced its body that a bright light flashed out of it, blinding anyone who happened to be looking into it. The assassin gave out a cry; Red Robin, meanwhile, had ducked his face back behind his cape so as to not fall into his own trap.

Hearing the yell, he sprung into action, using an arm to knock the rifle's barrel to a side so that it was no longer pointed at him. Raising a leg up, he kicked it into the sniper's stomach, forcing him to take a step back. With his right hand, he swung it down and then up, slipping his hand underneath the underbelly of the sniper rifle while using his left arm to clamp down on it from above. Simultaneously, he pushed up and down, tearing the weapon out of its wielder's grip and sent it flying away so that he didn't need to worry about it anymore.

Prepared to continue with his assault, the vigilante threw a follow-up punch, which was promptly caught in Deadshot's palm, the older man's fingers clamping down on his hand. The next thing Red Robin knew, a fist was decking him in the side of his face, snapping his head to a side. The unexpectedness of the blow almost had him falling to the floor, except his arm was yanked back and the rest of his body followed.

An uppercut to his gut had air forced out of his lungs, and then a backhand had spittle coming out of his mouth. Sensing the third blow coming, he blocked with his lower arm, wincing as he felt the force of the attack cause his limb to tremble against it.

Latching on to Deadshot's extended arm, he raised and planted a leg against the assassin's torso, picking up his other leg to repeat the motion while throwing his upper body back, making it appear as if he was running up the masked man. With his first leg, he kicked it up and nailed the killer in his chin, causing the assassin to release any body part of the vigilante's that he happened to be holding at that time.

Bringing his arms back behind his head, Red Robin completed a flip to land back on his legs. Remaining in a crouch, he watched the assassin warily, waiting for the hired gun's next move.

Deadshot was rubbing his jaw. "Not bad. You have some moves." Suddenly extending an arm out, the young vigilante saw what looked like an arm attachment that held a gun barrel on it. "So do I."

He was moving, a explosion of splinters erupted in the spot he had been crouching on. Raising his cape up, Red Robin blocked the second shot, but that didn't mean he was safe. The resulting ricochet had the bullet going elsewhere, but the assassin's shot had been so good that the second ricochet had the bullet returning towards the vigilante.

With a cry, he felt the small projectile cut in his calf muscle, not penetrating, but leaving a very clean cut in both the suit and the muscle. Not prepared for it, Red Robin stumbled and fell, but he did his best to keep his shield up at all times. A third shot bounced off the shield, but came back and trimmed through his hair. Damn, those shots were getting closer and closer to some vital areas!

"Any last words, kid? The next shot is the last one I need to make," Deadshot asked mildly.

"Bite me," Red Robin growled, trying to think of something, anything he could do.

"I've heard better," the assassin quipped back. The fourth shot was fired, but only after an unexpected birdarang hit his arm from the side and made him miss for the second time that night.

The throwing projectile was followed up by Spoiler tackling the hired killer from a side. While Deadshot barely budged, the younger vigilante had something else up her sleeve, Latching on to the killer's extended arm, she flipped him over her shoulder and threw him onto the floor, air expelling out of the larger man as he wheezed from the impact.

Huh, had not been expecting that.

What should have been expected was Deadshot's quick recovery time as he sliced an leg up into the air and struck Spoiler in the head with the toe of his boot. There was a loud, wet noise and Spoiler stumbled back, clutching at her head. Damn, should have foresaw that those boots were steel toe.

Rolling onto his front, Deadshot raised his arm up only to pull it back as a shot of electricity almost hit it. The assassin pushed himself back onto his feet, attempting to make an escape, but Bluebird's second shot struck him. A sharp cry escaped Deadshot's mouth as he screamed and back onto the floor he went, a pile of trembling body parts made useless by the tasing hit.

Looking over towards an open doorway, the taser-wielding vigilante stood with her taser rifle pointed at the hired gun. "How's that for a dead shot?" Bluebird taunted.

"Careful!" Red Robin warned her. "Don't take any chances!"

Unexpectedly, he was backed up by last person you would have thought. "He's not wrong," Deadshot commented. Rolling onto a side as he aimed with that arm attachment of his. An instant later and he fired, the bullet tearing into Bluebird's taser rifle, totaling the weapon as sparks and flares of electrical bolts slipping out of it before shutting off for good.

"Oh come on!" Bluebird complained.

"Would have done me in," Deadshot continued as he got back onto his feet, his arm extended and aimed right at the punk-themed vigilante. "Too bad my suit's insulated. Or at least enough that I was able to take one hit. A shame; could have had a future, but it doesn't look like you'll see past high school. But if it helps, I never got past the sixth grade myself."

Deadshot was very chatty for a sniper. Whether it was because of ego, or pure confidence, Red Robin didn't know, but then he didn't need to because the Batclan had learned to keep an ace or two up its sleeve. In this case, it came in the form of Nightwing swinging through the broken window, flying through the air feet first.

Said feet rammed into the side of Deadshot's head, and both men flew through the air until a wall stopped them. As the hired gun broke through the vertical surface, a cloud of plaster and sheetrock obscuring him from view, Nightwing landed on his back, going into a roll. Shooting back up, he caught Deadshot's arm and aimed it away, following that up by catching the fist that jabbed at him.

Red Robin couldn't really explain what happened next, but somehow Nightwing twisted his arm down and uppercutted the assassin, then landed a second punch to the killer's face. A third hit that landed against the large, red eyepiece, breaking the lens with red glass falling to the floor.

Deadshot attempting to hit back, something to dislodge the older vigilante's hold on his arm, but Nightwing was having none of that. Somehow moving with any and all attacks, he caught, evaded, and blocked any attempts the assassin made to try and free his arm. Eventually, Nightwing pulled back, but only to do the same to the captured arm. Even from where Red Robin crouched, he could hear the popping of the assassin's shoulder joint.

Going under the arm, Nightwing slammed his palm against Deadshot's head and forced it into the wall, using enough force to make yet another hole in the surface. While devastating in appearance, it had the drawback of giving Deadshot the chance he needed to break free. With his knee, he jabbed the folded joint into the vigilante's ribs, and used the momentary weakness to tear himself away. Stumbling, the killer managed to right himself, but he did not fire his weapon.

He was surrounded, Bluebird blocking the only doorway, Spoiler holding up several birdarangs, and Red Robin had the window, even as he was getting back onto his own feet. As soon as he fired one shot, the rest of the Batclan would be on him, and down he would go.

"Well? Nightwing spoke, breathing heavily due to his exertion. "Ready to give up yet? You're not going to get out of this, even if you do get one, two tops, the rest will take you down."

"Yeah, it looks like you got my number," Deadshot agreed, one hand lowering to a belt that Red Robin hadn't noticed. "But there's no profit sticking around here, even if I wanted to kill all of you." His hand pulled away from his belt, a detonator clenched beneath his fingers. "So I'll kill you all later. See ya."

A blast blew a hole in the floor, and the Batclan was too busy shielding their eyes from the splinters and other small debris that flew out of it. While it gave him the chance to maybe shoot them all down, Deadshot instead leapt down into the hole, making good on his escape.

A moment would be all that he would need to get away as the group of four would soon learn.

* * *

"Uh, yeah, I'm gonna have to pass."

Those were Huntress' words, the woman continuing to aim her crossbow at Shiva. In spite of this, Shiva did not look the least bit concerned. Instead, she began to close the distance between them.

Huntress then pulled the trigger.

The moment the bolt was sent flying towards its target, Shiva had bent low, running right at the purple-wearing vigilante. The arrow flew right over her head and the moment it did, Shiva leaped up into the air.

Cassandra could feel her stomach drop. It wasn't because Huntress had jumped high on this woman; no, it was the fact she couldn't read this Shiva woman. She had read dodge when the woman went into a charge. She had read a low strike before she jumped.

That had never happened before.

Swinging a leg through the air, Shiva's foot struck Huntress' crossbow, kicking it out of her hand. Huntress' arm jerked in the same direction as her weapon went flying out of her grasp, the crossbow heading right for Zatanna's head. The magician's eyes widened before she flung herself to one side to avoid getting hit in the face. "Ezee—" she began to chant.

Before she could complete her spell, Shiva was already acting. As she seemed to hang in midair before Huntress, her extended out crossing her body, Shiva's body continued to spin, the dark-haired woman lashing out with her other leg, the heel of her foot slamming into the side of Huntress' face, knocking her clear off her feet. Again, Shiva's kick sent something flying at Zatanna, this time Huntress herself. Breaking off her previous spell, the dark-haired woman then spoke, "Ezeerf!" her spell stopping Huntress right in front of her.

Because of this, Zatanna couldn't see Shiva landing on the ground, immediately bouncing off the roof as she went into a flying kick. Her blow nailed Huntress right in her midsection, the force of her kick pushing the vigilante out of her midair hover and right into the magician.

Again, Cassandra felt her stomach tie itself in knots, doubled with her heart sinking. The two women were pitched right off the roof, time seeming to slow down to her as she stared with horrified eyes.

And then she realized the two women had actually stopped. Hovering for a moment, they suddenly started moving in reverse, moving back onto the roof. Relief welled up in the girl as she realized Zatanna had used another spell to prevent them falling to the ground far below. They touched back down on the roof a moment later, Zatanna on her feet while Huntress was laid on the ground.

Shiva was then right in front of the magician. With an arm crossed over her body, she swung it forward, landing a chop to Zatanna's throat. Instantly, the magician gagged, letting out a choked gasp as her hand shot up to grab her injured throat.

Pulling her arm back, Shiva then began to spin to her right, dropping down as she extended a leg out. Her leg collided with Zatanna's knees, knocking them out from under her as the dark-haired woman fell to land on the roof hard. Pulling her leg back under her, Shiva then begin to rise up, drawing a hand back as she prepared to land one last strike to the magician.

It suddenly occurred to the girl that even though Shiva had started attacking Huntress, her every subsequent move had been aimed at Zatanna. It made sense too because one word from the magician could stop her completely. Somehow this woman had known this and used the vigilantes themselves against her.

But then her arm jerked upwards, just before Black Canary leg collided with it. It took Cassandra a moment to realize that Shiva had instantaneously turned her offensive strike into a defensive block. She hadn't even bothered to look at her new opponent to do so, only now tilting her head to eye the blonde vigilante with amusement.

Canary pulled her leg back, settling into a fighting stance, which in turned allowed Shiva to return the stance with one of her own. The two women stared each other down for only a moment, but to Cassandra it felt like a very long moment.

And then Canary lunged at Shiva, throwing a punch for her head. At least, that's how it should have gone. In reality, both women moved at the exact same time, Canary throwing her punch while Shiva had ducked down as she leaned backwards, lashing out with her foot. Her kick slammed right into the blonde woman's abdomen, stopping her in mid-punch, knocking the air out of her lungs.

Immediately, Shiva drew her leg back, coiling in front of her before she kicked it back out, her foot ramming right into Canary's face, causing her head to snap back, exposing her throat. Dropping her raised leg to the ground, the dark-haired woman was already lunging towards her foe, thrusting at hand forward with her fingers curled like talons.

Cassandra knew in an instant what Shiva intended to do. With Black Canary's exposed throat, the woman was moving to grab her larynx with her entire hand, versus the three-finger maneuver the Talons were taught. The end result would be the same regardless of technique.

The young girl's instincts kicked in. In a flash, she had pulled out one of her bat-shaped shurikens—what she had been told were batarangs—and threw it on an intercepting course with Shiva. The batarang whirled through the air as it closed in on its target.

And yet, Shiva seemed to sense this immediately. Instead of completing her lunge, she suddenly leaped into the air, spinning as she did so. The batarang passed right beneath her while she lashed out with a leg, her foot nailing Canary across her face, sending her flying off her feet and crashing to the ground.

It was then Cassandra found herself the sole focus of attention of Shiva. Even as she seemed to hover in midair despite her body beginning to drop back to the roof, her eyes were locked in, a small teasing smile on her face.

Cassandra...no, she was Batgirl now. Batgirl immediately darted towards the woman, closing the distance between them rapidly. She was nearly on top of Shiva the moment she landed on the ground, legs coiled beneath her, hands extended downward so that the tips of her fingers touched the roof to help steady her balance.

Batgirl led with a kick to the face. In response, Shiva surprisingly leaped _towards _the kick rather than away from it. The younger girl felt her foot collide with her opponent's arm, which she used to block the blow.

Undeterred, Batgirl sprung off the roof, spinning around in the air as she lashed out with her other leg, intending for her heel to make a direct hit. Again, Shiva dodged as she ducked the kick, causing Batgirl's kick to fly over her head harmlessly. By the time she landed back on the roof, Shiva was rising up, her hands lazily held before her in what appeared to be a casual defensive stance.

Already, Batgirl knew this was anything but. Though she was still recovering her full abilities, even her current state could read that Shiva was only assuming such a stance to provoke her. There was no need for that since she had attacked people she cared for. Attacking from that emotional standpoint, however, would not work. Thankfully, she had a short combo ready for such situations, taught to her by her…by Batman.

She threw her fist for Shiva's head, fully expecting Shiva's simple defense to tighten and block the blow. Instead, the woman backed away by one step, her fully extended fist not even reaching the woman's nose. Lunging forward, Batgirl went into the next step of the combo thrusting her other hand for her opponent's throat, her fingers pressed tightly together, thumb curled into the palm.

Again, Shiva dodged it, backing up another step as the young vigilante's fingers stopped a mere inch from her chin. Alright, the first punch was usually a feint, only to set up the throat jab. That second move had come up short, so now it was time for the third and last move. Drawing back her extended arm, she went for another kick, this one aimed for Shiva's side.

Instead of landing, the kick met the same fate as all of her other attempts. Shiva dropped down, crouching below the kick as it sailed over her head, her arms extended out from her sides. Batgirl knew she was in a bad position as her foe kneeled before her, ready to strike while she had her leg completely crossing in front of her body.

Shiva did not disappoint unfortunately. She sprung forward, thrusting both of her arms out in front of her, her fists pressed against each other as she flew like a missile towards Batgirl's chest.

Instinct saved her, somehow. Batgirl flung her upper body backwards, causing her to go into a backflip. Shiva's double-fisted blow flew just above her body, skimming the material of her suit.

As she reached her hands over her head to continue to flip, Batgirl put some extra force into her legs as she swung them upwards. Surprisingly, her desperate blow actually landed, the toes of her boots connecting with Shiva's chin. Instantly, the woman's head snapped backwards, throwing her back a couple steps while Batgirl completed her flip, landing back on her feet several feet away, her legs coiled beneath her.

For a moment, Shiva stayed that way, head tilted back, arms hovering at her sides, both feet solidly on the ground. Then her head leaned forward and the woman stared back at Batgirl, her good humor still in place in spite of the trickle of blood that was leaking from the corner of her mouth. "Nice," she complimented her. "Very nice."

In response, Batgirl kept her crouched pose, raising her arms up in a defensive stance.

"You hold much promise. I can see why the Detective took an interest in you. Unfortunately, all of your moves carry his stench. You won't be able to beat me this way, not in one hundred years."

And then Shiva assumed a stance, though no longer was it casual. Her arms were held rigidly, indicating she was done playing around.

The dark-haired woman then launched herself at the younger girl. She led with a kick, one that Batgirl blocked with one arm. The force of the blow was greater than she expected, however, as her feet actually skidded across the roof. It wasn't much, perhaps half an inch, but it was enough to get her attention.

In an instant, Shiva withdrew her leg, planting it back on the ground as she threw a punch. Batgirl found herself shooting up to her full height even as she blocked the punch with her other arm. That's when Shiva went into an onslaught of punches, her speed incredible as she attacked over and over.

The woman was like a blur of red and black and Batgirl was doing everything she could to avoid a direct hit. Her arms constantly traded off blocks as she backed away step after step, her body twisting from one side to the other as she dodged. There was never a moment she could counter, Shiva's assault was that constant.

And then she felt Shiva hit her. It wasn't much, but one of her punches clipped her shoulder. It wasn't a direct hit, but immediately she felt pain race up and down her arm, which she had to promptly ignore as she darted to one side, dropping down as she did so. One of Shiva's punches sailed over her head right where she had been standing a moment later.

Batgirl then jumped backwards in an attempt to put some distance between her and this master of the fist. She was beginning to tire, she could feel it. She could just barely read her foe now and it was only a matter of time before she slipped and it would be over.

Suddenly, something old and dark awoke within her. Before Batgirl realized what she was doing, she suddenly sprang towards Shiva, who was in mid-punch. The fist flew over her shoulder as she closed the distance between them, gifting the girl with a wide-open target.

She responded immediately. Throwing a fist, she aimed it right for Shiva's solar plexus. Unsurprisingly, Shiva blocked the attack with her other arm, her forearm absorbing the blow as she pushed Batgirl's arm to one side. Undeterred, she then attacked with her other hand, fingers curled inward with the palm prominent. She thrust her palm strike upward, aiming for the woman's chin. Instead of connecting, Shiva leaned backward, tilting her head back as the palm strike sailed a hair's width in front of her face.

Finally, Batgirl went for the kill. With the hand she had started this combo, she curled her fourth and fifth fingers into palm, the thumb, second, and third fingers held much like talons. In her head, she knew it was wrong. Her mind screamed for her body to stop the killing blow she had been taught since birth.

And yet, she didn't. Her hand thrust forward, going right for Shiva's throat.

At least, it would have had her hand not suddenly stopped. That was in part to Shiva's hand suddenly grabbing onto her wrist, stopping her strike. Gone was the amusement that had been written on her face the entire fight. Her eyes darkened, her face stone cold.

"I know this move," she stated coldly, her fingers tightening around Batgirl's wrist, causing a jolt of pain to run up her arm. "The Talon Strike."

Then she said something that caused her already dismayed feeling to become sick with horror. "This is Cain's move."

Cain. As in David Cain. The man that had trained her in the Court of Owls. The man that planned for her to become the greatest killer in the world under the title as Talon.

The first man to call himself her fa—

Suddenly, Shiva twisted Batgirl's wrist, causing her to cry out as her body spasmed into an awkward pose. With her other hand, Shiva shot it towards Batgirl's head, but not to hit her. Instead her hand pressed down on top of her head her fingers digging into the material of her mask.

Then with one clean pull, she yanked the mask off of her head, the cool night air kissing Cassandra's sweaty face as her short dark hair fell down over her head.

And then Shiva released her hold on the girl, stumbling—actually _stumbling_—back a step. Her eyes were wide in shock, her mouth dropping open slightly. "You," she breathed out as if all of the air in her lungs had been knocked out of her.

As if that wasn't bad enough. Cassandra could feel her insides twist and turn from the exposure of her face. Ever since she had put on that mask, Batman had gone to great lengths to explain why it should never come off. Now she knew exactly why. This horrible feeling had taken over her body, sickening her. Her heart plummeted into her stomach and seemed to not want to return to where it should be. If she lived to be a hundred years old, she never wanted to feel this feeling again.

And yet, Shiva just stood there staring at her, numb from whatever was going on within her. Her mask was clutched in the older woman's hand, dangling at her side. "I never thought," she practically whispered. "Of all of the cities and all of its people, you would be here."

Swallowing the sour bile taste that had begun to fill her mouth, Cassandra again raised her hands up as she took up a stance. "Give me back my mask," she demanded lamely.

Shiva held the mask up about waist-height if only so she could glance down at it. "Tell me, girl," she said then. "What is this mask to you?"

Cassandra didn't really know how to respond to that question, so she only repeated, "Give it back."

"In a little while, child. The both of us have something to talk about now and I rather it be face-to-face than one of us hiding behind a mask."

So she would not give it up. Fine, she would have to force it. Cassandra wasn't quite sure how to do so, but she had to try. She felt naked without that mask on.

Shiva's eyes narrowed then. "Don't do it. I can see you're going to fight me over this silly piece of cloth. There is no need for that; I promise I will return it to you once we are done talking."

"Give it to me first and then we'll talk," she spat back.

"All in due time," she responded, not the least bit taken back by the venom in the girl's words. Of course, that's when her small smile began to return to her face just before she dropped a giant bombshell into her lap.

"Daughter."

* * *

The Cassandra/Shiva portion of the Shiva fight is based off of their second fight in the comics, in which the two fight to the death, a condition of Shiva's for reteaching her how to read an opponent's bodily language again. Shiva won that fight much like she does here, though that one ended less ideally for Cassandra.

To FlackAttack: Yeah, Vale is dead. She was hunted down by a hitman hired by the Joker so that she couldn't publish her "Batman is Bruce Wayne" story


	28. Mother Dearest

Running down the hallway of this shithole building—he didn't really care to know what it was really for—Deadshot was determined to get away from this place. He was already pushed to his limit, physically speaking. A fight of attrition with four opponents was not his idea of a good night.

He knew how to fight close quarters. He wasn't stupid enough to rely only on his sniping. The thing was, he didn't get enough opportunities to really get his hands dirty in an all-out-brawl. Plus with enough hits, his body would be protesting the damage, much like it was right now.

This meant he was going to need to do some more conditioning, because it was embarrassing to find himself getting beat up by a bunch of Batman-wannabe nobodies. Not that he was going to hold a grudge or anything—grudges were too expensive.

Reaching what looked like a stairwell, Deadshot hurried as fast as he could, fully expecting to have one of those nobodies on his heels. He didn't hear any footsteps, near or far away, and he wasn't about to waste his luck so far. Barely slowing down, he kicked a foot into the door, forcing it open.

Just as he was passing through the doorway, the butt end of an automatic made friends with his face and pain exploded throughout his head. His momentum kept pushing him forward causing him to continue skidding across the floor and then off the top step of the stairs. The next thing he knew, he was tumbling down a flight of stairs.

Finally coming to a stop on the first landing, Deadshot laid there in a daze, his body deciding to call it quits. What the hell just happened?

Too late, he detected the presence of another man, this one dressed as a commando. Was he with the Batman-wannabes too? That would be great, a final sign that his luck was truly down the crapper.

"Intel was right," the commando commented. Raising his assault weapon up once more, he added, "Let's get this recruitment over with."

The last thing the sniper saw was the butt end of the rifle striking his face once more.

* * *

Nightwing and Bluebird had gone off first, hoping to see if Deadshot had left some kind of trail, one that would lead them to where he hid when he wasn't killing people. Red Robin and Spoiler had held back to first take care of their injuries, no matter how minor they could be, before heading out themselves.

Using the flimsiest material that could find that didn't appear to be something that would make things worse, i.e. Spoiler's cape, they were able to fashion some makeshift bandages. For Red Robin it was on his lower leg, more for precaution than anything. For Spoiler, it was around her head because that kick had broken the skin, and any wounds involving the head tended to have more blood. Bleeding tended to be more superficial than anything, but that didn't stop the transplanted vigilante from making sure the cloth was wrapped tightly down, applying pressure.

For some reason, Spoiler''s cheeks become redder when he brought his face close to hers—oh wait, he could figure out what that was about. Now wasn't the time to focus too much on it; they had a killer on the loose that needed to be taken care of.

The fastest way to go was down the way Deadshot had gone, that big, very noticeable hole in the floor. After that, it was a guess which direction he had gone. Eventually, the pair of teens found themselves at a stairwell, along with their first clue.

On the door was an imprint of a boot, one that was high enough that it could have only been made if someone had purposely put it. Red Robin guessed that the assassin had to been running so there should have been some force when his foot met the door.

After alerting the other half of the Batclan of their finding, Red Robin pulled out a birdarang, Spoiler copying him. Placing a hand on the long, push-based door handle, he applied enough pressure so that the latching mechanism was released. Shooting a look to Spoiler, he nodded, letting her know that they were able to have some action, provided if there was a threat on the other side. For all they knew, Deadshot was on the other side, waiting for them.

Abruptly pushing on the door, the masked teen held his birdarang up with the intention of throwing it...and found nothing on the other side. The only thing that greeted the pair was a seemingly empty stairwell.

"Don't let your guard down," he spoke to the hooded girl. "I'll go first; watch my back."

Not waiting for an answer, he took his first careful steps into the stairwell, scanning everything in sight just in case the sniper was waiting for the perfect shot. Personally knowing how good the guy was, Red Robin held some doubts that if the assassin wanted to, there would be no amount of preparations that would prevent the teen from getting a bullet in the head.

Reaching the stairs proper, he looked over the railing to the landing on the lower floor and still saw nothing—wait. On the intermediate landing just below or ahead, whatever, there was something laying on it. Taking it slow, he walked down the steps until he reached a familiar sight.

That looked like that arm attachment Deadshot had, the one that he could shoot from his wrist. The thing was broken and in about three, maybe four pieces, but Red Robin was not about to forget that thing any time soon.

"You find something?" Spoiler called down to him.

"I think so," he replied as he examined the device. It didn't look like it had fallen off of Deadshot's arm. For someone like the sniper, he wouldn't use something that would be cheap enough to fall off and, if it did, break into this many pieces. The same if he ran into something, say a wall by accident.

The only other possibility he could come up with was that Deadshot himself broke it on purpose...or someone else had.

And if it was someone else, that person had caught Deadshot first, disarmed him of his most deadly weapon, and seemingly left with him. Doubtful Deadshot took it lying down unless he was jumped and was unable to properly defend himself. The only question left was who was responsible?

By now, Spoiler had descended the stairs to reach him. "Isn't that the thing that guy was wearing?" she asked, in the process showing that she had some observation skills on her.

"Definitely," he confirmed. "I don't think we need to worry about Deadshot right now. Looks like another fish got to him first."

"Any idea who?" the female vigilante asked.

"None, but once we do, we'll know why they grabbed him," Red Robin answered as he put his birdarang away. "We'll wait for the others to catch up and decide what to do."

He didn't have a lot of confidence that this was a mystery he'd be solving any time soon. Then again, he found that he didn't really have to need to solve it. Maybe it was the exhaustion, or the near death experience talking, but the teen was too happy that he was still alive right now.

There was no telling how long that would last.

* * *

They were missing a few people. It wasn't unusual considering how active the Network was, but it was who was missing that was odd. Black Canary and Huntress were usually prompt for meetings, or at least it was known why they were out. Throw in Zatanna and Batgirl and that was really peculiar.

Batman would look into that later. The world didn't stop for tardiness.

The rest of the Network was gathered, the vigilantes seated at the table. The younger ones were at attention, sitting straight in their chairs while the older vigilantes were more relaxed—in Green Arrow's case, lounging.

"_The damage to the reservoir was significant,"_ Oracle was reporting through the intercom. "_But fortunately, it looks like that fear toxin-laced water Crane made hasn't reached the city. I'll keep an eye out for any signs of fear hysteria, but I think we managed to dodge a bullet."_

"It was definitely one of the easier fights I've been in since I got here," Manhunter added. "That Crane guy didn't exactly hire the toughest guys around."

"There's still a problem with the water though," Red Robin pointed out. "Just because the water hasn't reached the city doesn't mean it's over. What are we going to do with all of it? Not to mention, we've practically cut off Gotham from its water supply. We're on a ticking time bomb when the locals realize they're not getting water."

Which meant they needed to find a solution to this problem quickly, before another riot broke out. Though the reservoir was a large source of drinking water for the city, it wasn't the only one nor could it be. They needed to get access to the other ones to buy them time so they could fix the reservoir for the long term.

"Oracle," Batman grunted, "can you find other sources of water for Gotham until the reservoir is repaired? The sooner we get access, the sooner we avert unrest in the city."

"_On it,"_ came the hacker's reply. "_I'll let everyone know what I find as soon as I have it."_

There wasn't anything more they could do then, unless someone else had a solution that was going unmentioned. Considering who was all present, it was highly doubtful such a solution would be forthcoming. It was time to move onto the next—

There was a loud commotion at the entrance to the bunker, one that caused all of the present vigilantes to look. Much to everyone's surprise—then prompt concern—Zatanna and Black Canary came trudging into the room, Huntress between the two women, her arms hanging around the backs of the two women's necks. Their costumes were dirty with random tears present. In all honesty, it looked as if the three had been in a fight.

"What the hell happened to you three?" Green Arrow immediately asked as he shot out of his chair, knocking it to the floor. Batman had also stood up, though his chair slid across the tile flooring.

"A little help would be much appreciated," Zatanna grumbled at him as she took another step, Black Canary doing the same, though there was a noticeable limp with hers. Huntress wince from the jarring movement. Immediately, Arrow and Nightwing were rushing towards the three, helping take Huntress away from the two women in fishnets. Batman had moved towards them as well, though he stood out of the way while simultaneously eyeing each woman for injury.

"What happened?" he repeated Arrow's question, watching Zatanna as she lumbered towards the nearest chair. The dark-haired woman ignored him before she plopped into the seat, letting out a sigh. Seeing his old friend ignoring him, he then turned his attention to Canary, who was doing much like the magician, limping to a chair. Zatanna had beaten her to the closest one, so she was left having to move around the table gingerly before she reached one. Green Arrow and Nightwing lowered Huntress to the floor, where the purple-clad woman took a seat, one of her hands moving to her ribs, which caused her to wince again. "Well?" he pressed.

"We were ambushed." Finally, one of them answered him, Zatanna being the one to do so. Turning his attention to her, Batman faintly thought they were missing someone and he already didn't like who he thought it was. "We were minding our own business when that woman you warned us about attacked. Shiva, I think."

Batman's insides went cold. His eyes darted between the three women and he was already imagining just what blows Shiva had done to them to cause their injuries. The woman knew so many that there were endless possibilities.

"Didn't Batman warn everyone not to fight her?" Red Robin spoke up then. "Why did you guys fight her when you weren't supposed to?"

"It's not like we had a lot of choices," Huntress grunted at him, sending a glowering look in his direction. The teen visibly shrunk in on himself from the look. "It was fight or get killed and we sure as hell weren't going to roll over."

"Why did she attack you?" Batman then asked. Shiva had to have a reason for doing so. She didn't attack indiscriminately.

"I don't have a freaking clue," came the unsatisfying response. "We were talking with each other; it wasn't like we were crashing a job of hers or anything. She came after us and kicked the ever living shit out of us."

"Literally," Black Canary added.

"Umm, isn't someone missing?" Spoiler suddenly asked, her tone low and meek.

Great, so it wasn't just him noticing this. "Where's Batgirl?" he barked.

"Batman." His head swung towards Zatanna. Though she looked fatigued, her eyes were boring holes into him. Once she was sure she had his full attention, she continued, "Shiva took an interest in Batgirl. They fought, stopped, and then they both went off together They—"

Batman didn't wait for Zatanna to finish what she was saying. Instead he had pivoted on his heels and strode towards the exit, cape billowing behind him as he moved. "Where do you think you're going?" he heard the dark-haired woman call out from behind him.

"I'm going to find her," the dark-clad man responded, not once pausing in stride.

"I'm coming with," Green Arrow volunteered, the archer standing up from his crouched position next to Huntress.

That actually caused the Dark Knight to stop. Turning his head, he immediately shot the blond-haired man down. "No, I'm going alone on this. You won't be a match for her."

The Emerald Archer scowled. "And you will be? No way, just look at what she did to the ladies. You're going to need help on this one."

"This is personal," he shot back, "and doesn't concern you."

"Of course this is personal. It's personal for all of us!"

Batman's features hardened as he turned to fully face the group. "You have no idea what you're getting yourself into. Out of all of us, I'm the only one that's faced Shiva when she was fully intent on killing them. The fact that Zatanna and Canary and Huntress are even able to walk means she wasn't trying against them. All of you will stay here and won't go near her. That's an order."

Spinning back around, he then reached the doorway, passing through it a second later. He could only imagine what Shiva was doing to Cassandra. Why the hell had she gone with that murderer? His mind was flooded with all sorts of images, possibilities as to how the two had gone off. Perhaps Cassandra had walked off with Shiva, or Shiva had knocked her out and taken her away. Maybe there were some of Ra's men to help carry the girl away.

Ultimately it didn't matter how it happened. His charge—his daughter—was in danger. He would be damned if harm came to her.

Exiting the bunker and reaching street level, Batman began making his way down the alley. A hand slipped into a pouch on his belt, removing his palm pilot and activating it even as he raise it up. The moment it was on, he was activating a tracer that was embedded in the Batgirl armor. This would lead him right to the girl, saving him precious minutes searching that he may not have.

It took a moment for the program in the palm pilot to do as commanded, but eventually a grid of the city appeared on the screen. The grid then zoomed in on an area of the city, stopping before a red dot began blinking over and over. He had the location and it was...in the opposite direction he was going.

Stopping, Batman spun around. He ignored the trash and filth that covered the ground and the graffiti painted on the brick wall next to—

Suddenly, a sharp pain stabbed into the vigilante's head. Instinctively wincing, Batman hissed as the pain throbbed within his skull. He stumbled back a step, his back colliding with the wall now behind him.

_Jesus, what's happening?_ He squeezed his eyes shut, focusing only on the intense pain he felt. It was like a migraine, only worse. Gasping, he sucked in as much air as he could, the headache slowly beginning to abate then. The longer he kept his eyes closed, the less he felt his skull willing itself to explode. When he was able to, he focused on his breathing, slowing it down until he was calmer.

Okay, first thing was first, what the hell was that? He had never experienced a headache like that. What had even caused it? Headaches typically had a slow onset, not the sudden acuteness he had experienced. Opening his eyes, he looked ahead of him, seeing the graffiti-covered wall.

For whatever reason, he could feel his head begin to pound again, though it was slow. But then it began to level off, then dissipate, as if it never happened. That was even stranger than the sudden onset. What—

"Hey, you okay?"

Batman jolted where he stood, his head jerking to his side. There stood Green Arrow, concern on his face as he had a hand placed on the Dark Knight's shoulder. "You don't look too good," he said.

Batman internally shook himself. "I'm fine," he grunted as he straightened out his posture. He looked back to the wall in front of him, but found himself glancing away just as quickly. The reds and blues and yellows of the graffiti weren't all that interesting. Something else, however, was. "I just lost my balance for a moment."

"Not so graceful, huh?" Arrow then gave him a serious look. "I know you're protective of that sidekick of yours—at least that's what all your fellow Gotham friends said—so I get why you're acting like a parent."

The dark-clad man heard what was being said to him, but there was a part of his mind that was distracted. It wasn't often someone was able to walk up to him without him knowing. And yet, Green Arrow had been standing next to him as if he had been there the entire time. He usually would have sensed that.

And yet, he hadn't.

"But that makes you too emotional and after everything you've told the Network about this Lady Shiva gal, it makes me think you're not the best person to be going after her. You're going to need some good backup. I know the others aren't up for the job, whether that be inexperienced or skill; but I'm fully capable of taking care of myself. I protect my own city after all."

He needed to make this guy stop talking. His logic was on point, but his presence in all of this was not welcomed. "I can appreciate what you're telling me, but if you understand like you say you do, then you know this concerns only me."

"Now that's bullshit and you know it," Arrow retorted. "You need all the help you can get. We all have a vested interest in it, not just you. I mean, it's not like this is your daughter, or something."

Batman glanced at the archer, which was all the man needed to know he had hit that nail on the head. "Hold on, Batgirl is your _daughter?_ You let your own kid fight crime with you?"

Well, the cat was out of the bag. "There's extenuating circumstances, but yes, this is my daughter and I've got to find her."

"Again, tell me why you let her fight crime. I seriously would not let my own flesh and blood go out on the streets like this."

"I tried to stop her. It didn't take."

There was a moment of silence. "Let me guess, teenager?"

He nodded.

Green Arrow stared at him before he sighed. "Then you best be going before one of the others tries to do what I did. Good luck—I think you'll need it."

The archer then began to turn away, pausing only to glance at the graffiti. "You know, I gotta say some people know how to use paint around here. Those reds and blues and greens fit rather well."

* * *

A mother. For some reason, Cassandra had never given much thought to having a mother. Growing up, she was surrounded by men. Her teacher was a man and had taken interest in her from a very early age. In fact, her earliest memories were that of her teacher training her.

And then came her refuge with Batman, the man taking her in after his battle with the Court of Owls. It had been just the two of them, so once again, she was in a male-dominated household.

The closest she had in female interaction was with Huntress, though she never seemed to be interested in a mother-like role. She was more of a chaperone on her best days and a babysitter at her worst. In fact, it wasn't until Zatanna she had actually experienced anything of a maternal nature.

But here she was, standing before a woman that claimed to be her mother. They had long ago left the rooftop in which they had battled, leaving Zatanna and the others behind. A part of Cassandra wanted to get this very dangerous woman away from them and if going with her did just that, then she would willing do so. They had taken off to some other building on the other side of town. Though she was familiar with the area, the girl wasn't sure why Shiva had chosen this place. From a tactical standpoint, they were out in the open, not even using the nearby skyscrapers to elevate them. Instead they were on a much lower building, visible to anyone with a high vantage point.

Something about that put her on edge.

Facing Shiva, Cassandra stared at her from behind her dark lens. Once Shiva had returned her mask, she had immediately forced it back on, making her feel somewhat better that she wasn't exposed. Her new companion hadn't taken offense to that, humoring her effort.

However, the older woman seemed to be searching her with her eyes. Cassandra was quite certain there wasn't an inch of her body that hadn't been thoroughly stared at, now and during their journey here. It was uncomfortable.

"I suppose you would like a story now," Shiva said suddenly, breaking the silence between them. She stood there like an unlocked chest, full of truth and secrets. Her hand rested within the pockets of her dark coat, her body language relaxed, though on guard.

Uncertainty ruling her, the girl slowly nodded. She wasn't sure where this would take her, but she was very curious to learn.

"Be calm, child," the older woman cooed, her tone teasing. "I won't bite, at least for now. I do not believe you understand the significance of all this."

She shook her head, though not to be troublesome, but in agreement. "I do not," she agreed.

Shiva sighed, her head tilting upward so that she looked into the sky. "This is much harder than I would expect," she remarked aloud. "I suppose I should start at the beginning. All the good stories begin there."

Keeping silent, Cassandra waited, allowing Shiva to begin at her own time. "I wasn't always this way, the living embodiment of Shiva," she started, returning her attention to the younger girl. "I highly doubt you know your Hinduism, so I will spare you the details. One time, I was much like you: young, hopeful, full of promise. I enjoyed life then, innocent to the cruelties of the world.

"What made life such was my sister. The two of us were both interested in the martial arts and trained in it extensively. We were like iron and steel, sharpening the other's skill until no others could touch us. We had many challengers come see us, all of whom we defeated." A wistful smile appeared on her face. "I miss those days."

Suddenly, she chuckled. "I can remember this one man. A boy, really. He was different from the others, being so young. He had promise, but he was no challenge to my sister and I. We let him off easy since neither one of us wanted to damage that handsome face of his. He had a bit of an aristocrat in him, good bone structure. He would have made great children."

Shiva laughed again, but there was a mocking tone to it this time. "Perhaps I only remember him because after he left is when everything went to hell."

She didn't pause in her story, plunging right into it. "A challenger came to us shortly after the rich kid left. He was bigger, stronger, and highly skilled. He didn't challenge us like the others, but instead offered a proposition: he wanted one of us to have a child with him in some crazy quest to sire the ultimate warrior. My sister and I blew him off. He then proceeded to defeat us both and not gently. He then forced the two of us into mortal combat. The winner he would allow to live and the loser...well, I suppose you don't have to think too hard to know what happened."

Cassandra swallowed deeply, a lump forming in her throat. No, she didn't have to think hard. Whoever this man was, he had forced Lady Shiva to fight her sister to the death and Shiva had won. She wasn't sure how to feel about this.

"After that, I received my punishment for my sister's death," Shiva continued. "I bore the man his child: you. I care not for this time, I hope you understand. However, before I ever had a chance to hold you, he stole you away from me, vanishing into the wide world.

"At this time, I was being kept in a stronghold of Ra's al Ghul's. This man had claimed he wanted you to become a bodyguard for Ra's, something he had approved and financed. As you can imagine, when he took off with you, Ra's was not happy. He sent out his assassins, all of whom failed to retrieve you."

"Who was this man?" Cassandra suddenly asked, interrupting the narrative. She had a feeling she knew who it was, but she needed confirmation.

"I'm certain you already know by now. His name was David Cain."

The image of a white-haired man flashed into her mind. Her teacher, the man that had trained her for most of her life, was her kidnapper. He would have also been her executioner had he had things his way.

_"Then if you will not grant my pupil her rightful honor, then I will do it for you."_

_She watched as Cain pulled out a knife and with practiced ease threw it at her. The point led the entire way, the girl staring as it rapidly closed the distance between them._

A silence must have fallen between them, though Cassandra knew not for how long. It appeared long enough for Shiva as she spoke, "It wasn't until those people, the ones you called the Court of Owls, attacked this city that I learned of what became of Cain. Once the Detective scattered them to the four corners of the world, I began my own search for you, hunting them down much like the Detective. Unfortunately, the ones I found were less than useful."

Meaning she most likely killed them. Cassandra could feel her hand tighten into a fist instinctively.

This did not go unnoticed by Shiva. "You have an objection to how I handled the situation, I see. It seems the Detective was thorough in his training."

Oh yes, she had mentioned something about that before. How had it gone? His stench was all over her fighting style? "You say that like it is a bad thing," she growled.

"To the contrary. If there was one person I was okay with training you, it is him. Though his restrain when it comes to killing is tiresome, I know he would have taught you to be the best that you could be. I am perfectly fine with completing your education."

"Are you saying that because you failed in finding me?" she questioned. "Or is it because you wish to use me like my...my father did." For some reason, using that word in reference to Cain felt..._wrong._ She could feel bile sour on her tongue, leaving a bad taste in her mouth.

Shiva narrowed her eyes. "Please, refrain from calling that man such a term of endearment. He was a monster that I wished I had the pleasure of killing instead of what the Detective did to him. Though I do admit the fiery explosion was a nice touch."

"Then what do you think I should call him? He is the father, isn't he?"

Shiva shrugged. "You can call him anything you want, just not that. It isn't an appropriate use of the term."

"But he was the man to father me."

"No, he wasn't."

Cassandra frowned. Something was not making sense. She could understand the dislike for Cain with what he had done to Shiva, but the woman was saying things that weren't adding up. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean, he wasn't your father. You see, there was a reason I beat my sister. We were both of equal skill, but the reason I succeeded was because I was already with child."

It was as if a lightning bolt had struck her. Cain wasn't...but...she had believed that. He had told her as much. Though he trained her, whenever they were alone, he always had referred to her as Daughter. She had felt that connection.

"It makes things harder to know for certain who your real, biological father is," Shiva remarked then, pulling a hand out of her coat pocket and extending it out to the girl. The back of her fingers rubbed against her masked cheek. "Since you resemble me so much."

"You...you don't know who…?" she trailed off.

"Oh, silly girl, of course I do."

"Then you must tell me!"

A mocking smile appeared on her face. "Why must I?"

"Because…" Well, why did she? What did Cassandra have to know? It had never been so important to her before. In fact, she hadn't ever cared about her lineage, not until—

"_That child is..._his _child?"_

The face of that little boy that had snuck into the Batcave caused an immediate sense of irritation. Ever since he had shown up, it was as if her place in the world had vanished. He was an actual child of Batman, unlike her. Yes, he had taken her in and even made it a legally-binding thing, but it wasn't the same. She hadn't realized just how alone she was in the world until that boy's identity was revealed. And now she had flesh and blood before her and she wanted to know everything. She had to. She needed to.

"Because isn't reason enough," Shiva said. "Though if it is important to you, I suppose we can come to a compromise."

"A compromise?" she repeated.

A warm smile appeared on the older woman's lips. It was so inviting. "Come with me. Let's leave this city behind and become what we always should have been: family. I will teach you all that I know and you can take my place as the Destroyer of Worlds."

Whatever good feeling she had been feeling Cassandra could feel herself become repulsed by that name, this world destroyer. "Why would I want to be that?"

"There is no greater honor. All men would whimper at the mere mentioning of your name, just as they do at mine. Whole armies would fall at your feet, the world's most powerful clamoring for an audience. The world would be at your beck and call."

"But what if I don't want that?"

"Why would you not?" she countered. "Children should always strive for greatness. You have much to learn and much more to accomplish. That the Detective has not pushed you to achieve the heights that you so easily can is a failure of his. I will not make that mistake."

Batgirl felt her eye twitch. She didn't like how Shiva spoke of Batman. "And if I refuse?"

"Then I will force you to see the error of your ways," Shiva replied simply. "Or perhaps I shall just kill you to end any further embarrassment. The choice is yours, child. I suggest you choose wisely."

* * *

Shiva's backstory with David Cain is based off the comics, though there is an obvious change concerning Cassandra's lineage. I'm certain most of y'all will recognize which part was changed.

To Guest: As you can see, there's definitely no crying and hugging


	29. Activate The Machine

There was something completely wrong with this. Cassandra could feel it from her head to her toes. Though this woman claimed to be her biological mother, offering a connection she never knew she craved, she radiated wrongness.

She didn't like it.

Batgirl shifted herself into a stance, one she was certain wouldn't go unnoticed. Immediately, Shiva narrowed her eyes. "I see you're choosing the hard way," she stated.

She was an expert at reading body language, much in the way she had once been. A sinking feeling formed in her stomach. She knew just how good she had been, knowing what an opponent would do before they even did it. It had been her greatest weapon. She soon learned that she had been using it as a crutch, her defensive capabilities being nothing when faced with someone of Batman's caliber.

Batman had said Shiva was better than him.

This was not going to end well.

However, Batgirl felt that Shiva had never faced someone that could predict her moves either. If she were to win this, she needed to do it quickly while having the element of surprise.

With blinding speed, Shiva threw a fist for her face. Batgirl hadn't even seen it move, only realizing the fist was hovering before her eyes and closing in fast. Immediately she crouched down even as she performed a high block with her forearm, forcing Shiva's fist upward and over her head. Feeling Shiva rotate her wrist against her arm, her eyes darted up to her raised fist and found the woman maneuvering her blocked hand around her raised arm. Gone was the fist, the fingers straight and pressed together, thumb curled into palm.

Immediately, Batgirl grabbed at Shiva's arm, her fingers wrapping around the older woman's forearm and stopping whatever attack she had planned. At least, that's what she thought. It turned out Shiva's counter to her block was only a distraction as her other fist came rocketing in, slamming into the side of her face and causing her head to snap to a side.

Again, Shiva uncurled her fist, straightening her fingers out before she performed a backswing with her striking hand, landing a chop to Batgirl's throat. Gagging, the girl stumbled backwards, helpless as her opponent jumped into the air, spinning as she did so before lashing out with a leg. Her spinning kick nailed Batgirl's head, the force of the blow sending her flying backwards, the masked fighter landing on her back on the roof.

Instantly, Batgirl swung her legs up, bending them at the knee so that her knees nearly touched her chest. Throwing them back, she flipped back up onto her feet, just in time to see Shiva balancing on one foot before her, her other leg raised up and ready perform a side snap kick.

The kick came and Batgirl immediately spun to a side, dodging it. The safe direction would have been to go on the outside of her foe's kick, which would have prevented her from attacking with her arms, yet allow her to side-sweep with her raised leg. Instead, she spun to the inside, using her body to block her raised fist from sight.

This caused her to take her eyes off of Shiva for only a moment. She knew that was a mistake, but she didn't feel she had much choice. The moment her body allowed her, her head twisted around to look at her opponent. Surprisingly, Shiva hadn't tried to attack her with her fists. Instead she was lowering her raised leg.

So Batgirl went on the offensive. Completing her spin, she swung out her fist, swinging a backhand blow. Shiva merely leaned her head back, that maddeningly amused smile on her face as the girl's fist flew in front of her face, missing by a paper's width.

And then the older woman dropped down. Crouching, she pivoted on her grounded foot, allowing her to attack with her other, fully extended leg and knocked Batgirl's feet out from under her. Toppling over, she immediately threw her hands above her head as she leaned as far back as she could. Going into a flip, her hands touched down on the roof, which allowed her to spring right off of it to complete the flip, landing back on her feet.

By then, Shiva was standing up, holding her ground. It was clear she was waiting for her to attack. Normally, Batgirl would have waited as well. It was what Batman would do.

Instead, she took Shiva's invitation and launched herself towards the older woman. She threw a fist at her foe, who dodged by simply taking a step back. Undeterred, she threw another fist and then another, Shiva always stepping away to avoid each punch. Batgirl followed each step back with a step forward, right until Shiva changed things up and blocked her next punch and then her next.

And then, finally, she caught Batgirl's fist with a hand, her fingers curling over the girl's knuckles. "That's enough of that," she said.

Immediately, Batgirl leaned backwards, making a show of trying to pull her hand back, to which Shiva did not let go. That was when she drew her closest leg up and kicked out with it, landing a kick to Shiva's midsection, causing the older woman's eyes to widen and stumble back a couple steps. She let go of Batgirl's fist so that both of her arms wrapped around her stomach, an odd gesture for someone so skilled.

Yet, Batgirl didn't press her advantage. Instead she assumed a stance, waiting to see what her foe would do next.

"You're still holding back," Shiva spoke then as she dropped her arms to her sides, standing up straight. "For someone with so much promise, that is disappointing. I will give you one last chance to come at me with everything you have. If you keep restraining yourself, I promise you, you will die."

What was this, some sort of training exercise? Batgirl could not help but scowl beneath her mask. If Shiva wanted her to go all out, then so be it.

Charging, Batgirl leaped into the air while raising a leg up in front of her, bent at the knee. Immediately, Shiva shot an arm up, blocking the flying knee blow, just as she expected. The moment her knee came into contact with the arm, Batgirl was already swinging her other leg up, aiming to land a kick to the woman's head.

This move caused her to lowering her raised knee to perform, which allowed Shiva to use her same blocking arm to shift over, blocking the kick, though the older woman shifted to a side and downward to absorb the power from the blow.

Dropping back down to the roof, where she landed with both feet, Batgirl lunged forward, throwing a punch for Shiva's face. The woman slid to a side, avoiding the punch.

However, that's when Shiva changed things. Before Batgirl could draw her extended hand back, Shiva shot up her own hand and grabbed her wrist. Pulling on it, she forced Batgirl to lean forward, throwing her off balance. Twisting around to fully face the girl, Shiva then drove a palm strike right under her chin, snapping her head back from the force of the blow.

Even as she was thrown back, Batgirl found she didn't go too far as her opponent held a tight grip on her wrist. That's when Shiva drew up a leg and lashed out with it, slamming a foot into her stomach, causing Batgirl to slump forward, gasping. The foot pulled back, only to be driven right into her face, again jerking her head back.

And then Shiva let go of her wrist, only so that she could spring up from the roof. Her raised leg dropped downward so that her former grounded foot could swing up, landing a side kick to the side of Batgirl's face.

Flying head first, Batgirl found her world slowly turn, her body going into a corkscrew motion as she flew through the air. She landed hard on the roof, bouncing off of it once before collapsing back down. A daze filled her head, seemingly causing the world around her to slow down. She felt numb in her head, which was a very weird feeling.

Slowly, she began to push herself up, not really feeling the gravel beneath her hands. That had to be worrisome, but she found she couldn't feel that emotion. Holding her upper body up with her arms, she turned herself to look back at Shiva.

She found the woman immediately. Shiva stood in front of her, a fist flying right for her head. Due to her daze, the fist appeared to be moving in slow motion; yet, she could see just how much power was behind the punch. She had no doubt this blow was meant to crush her face and leave her head looking like a caved-in melon.

Suddenly, the rooftop vanished before her eyes. In its place, a room with plain walls and plain flooring. No, the floor was made of marble. She didn't know that was the name of it at the time, but she had learned that was what it was later. There were a set of large windows off to her right as well.

She knew this room.

Gone was Shiva as well. A long distance away, standing by a doorway was a white-haired man, dressed completely in black. He had one of his arms raised, extended out in a throwing motion.

It took her a second, but she recognized this man as well. David Cain, the man she had thought was her father. The man that had trained her to be the ultimate killing machine. And between them, closing in on her, was a throwing knife. Like Shiva's fist, it moved in slow-motion, closing in on her to puncture her face.

The image vanished then, replaced with Shiva once more, her fist even closer now. The two sights were strangely similar, uncannily so. Cain had tried to kill her when she failed to kill Batman, disappointment in his eyes. Now Shiva was going to kill her, disappointed that she refused to join her. Neither biological parent wanted her, not if she wasn't any use to them, and they treated her like they would a piece of discarded garbage.

Was this what it felt like to be unwanted?

Did anyone want her?

Suddenly, Shiva's fist stopped. It was close too, so close Batgirl was certain her breath was tickling the skin. It was then she realized there was a large, gloved hand wrapped around Shiva's wrist, the reason why the fist had stopped.

Eyes focusing on the hand, they then slid down the arm it was connected to, the girl discovering Batman standing next to the fighting women. Again, her eyes played with her head as she saw the man standing in the empty room, though he was holding the hilt of Cain's throwing knife. The deja vu was incredible.

However, this time Batman had a fist crossed over his chest, hovering by his shoulder. With one smooth motion, he swung his backhand blow, slamming it into Shiva's face. The force of the blow sent the woman flying back through the air, putting a surprising amount of distance between them before it was her turn to land hard on the roof.

Batman then turned towards her, the girl seeing an expression of intense fury on his face. His teeth were bared, lips curled over. But that all changed the moment he looked at her. Gone was the anger, replaced by concern. It was then she realized he was breathing hard, the man audibly panting. His eyes looked her over from head to toe before she saw relief flood his body. "You're alright," he said out loud; Batgirl wasn't sure if it was meant for her, or him.

The moment was gone then. Steeling his features, he then turned around to look towards Shiva, moving himself to stand between the older woman and her. Batgirl couldn't help how comforting that gesture was. It made her feel...good. Better about herself.

Wanted.

Shiva was climbing back onto her feet then, a hand rubbing up against the corner of her mouth. Even from where she laid, Batgirl could see the woman was wiping away blood from her mouth. "Detective," she greeted neutrally.

"Shiva," he returned.

"You're interrupting. My business is with my wayward daughter behind you. You have no part here."

There was rigidness that overcame Batman's body. It was only there for an instant, but it was gone as soon as it appeared. "I won't let you lay another hand on her," he growled back.

Shiva narrowed her eyes before she assumed a fighting stance, Batman reciprocating. They held their respective grounds, staring each other down for what felt like hours.

That was until Shiva tilted her head to one side. "There's something different about you," she murmured. "What could it be?"

Batman edged forward, which was copied by Shiva. The fogginess in Batgirl's head began to fade away and she watched with growing focus. This was a different approach from what she had seen and should have been obvious. She, the Birds, anyone that had taken Shiva on had charged or let her come to them. Neither approach worked. This slow approach was new.

Both fighters had their fists raised above them. In fact, their stances were similar. One fist held out in front, the other by their hips. The distance between them shrank until their knuckles practically touched the other's.

That's when Shiva struck. Her extended fist darted towards Batman, but it was no longer a fist. Her fingers were stretched out, the woman attempting to jab her fingertips right into the dark-clad man's face.

Batman blocked it with his raised arm, ducking down while shooting his other hand forward. His palm caught the knee Shiva had lunged with, stopping her forward momentum.

And then Shiva lashed out with her other leg. Though it was practically the same maneuver Batgirl had used earlier, the older woman aimed lower, her leg colliding with Batman's side.

Suddenly, Batman dropped his raised arm down and pressed Shiva's leg against his side, pinning it there. His other hand wrapped around the leg and he twisted his body to a side. Letting out a grunt he then released his hold on Shiva, sending the woman flying through the air, though she nimbly landed back on the roof without much trouble.

Springing forward, she rushed back at the dark-clad man. Batman shifted his body to one side as he raised a leg up, kicking out with it as soon as he could. Shiva dodged to a side, not even missing a step as she drove her fist right into the man's ribs. Batman winced from the blow as he stumbled back. Drawing her fist back, she curled her fingers back to expose her palm just before she thrust it upwards, landing a palm strike beneath his chin. Batman's head jerked back from the blow, which left him wide open for Shiva to rear back on one leg and kick out with the other, her foot ramming right into his chest and sending him flying backwards.

Somehow, Batman manage to regain his balance, his feet dragging across the gravel on the rooftop until he slid to a stop. He was breathing hard, gasping. Batgirl found herself jerking forward despite still semi-lying on the ground.

Something was wrong. She had never seen Batman fight this...sloppy before. He was always in control of himself, dictating every action, not only of himself, but of his opponent. Either Shiva was going all out on him, proving that her skill was indeed beyond them all, or he had somehow lost his fighting ability.

Unfortunately, Shiva seemed to notice this as well. "What's wrong, Detective?" she questioned, eyes narrowed. "You were not this incompetent when we fought with Deathstroke. What changed? You're fighting like a first-time student."

Batman didn't reply, instead allowing his cape to encircling him completely. There was a ruffle beneath the material, something that caught Batgirl's eyes—and undoubtedly Shiva's.

Not waiting to see what the dark-clad man was planning, Shiva charged once more, telegraphing her incoming punch. Batman jerked backwards to avoid the blow, stepping back again as the woman lashed out with punch after punch. For every punch, he backed away a step.

Then he changed tactics and kicked out with a leg, which caused Shiva to back off. Pressing his advantage, Batman kept leading with kicks. Spinning his body around over and over, he would kick with one leg, then bring it down so that he could place all his weight on it while he kicked out with the other. Each kick missed Shiva as she backpedaled.

Suddenly, Batman threw open his cape, leading with his left arm. Immediately, Shiva lunged forward, catching his arm with both hands. In his hand was a batarang, one he clearly meant to throw, but was unable to due to Shiva's block

Then quick as lighting, Batman's right fist shot out from beneath his cape and slammed into her face, causing her to jerk back. Keeping his arm extended, he then swung it downward, his hand releasing a smoke pellet and sending it flying to the ground. Immediately, a smoke cloud erupted, enveloping both fighters in a thick cloud of smoke.

Gingerly, Batgirl forced herself onto her feet, though she kept herself crouched down. The entire time she could hear the sound of body parts colliding with other body parts. She assumed fists and feet, but there was no real way to tell. There was definitely the occasional grunt and cry, though unfortunately they belonged to a deeper voice.

Suddenly, Batman exploded out of the smoke cloud, flying backwards through the air. Following him with her head, she watched as the man landed on the roof, going into a roll across it. Somehow, he managed to gather himself as he stopped the roll, ending up crouched much like she was. However, he was still holding onto his batarang, which he sent flying into the smoke cloud.

This time there was no scream. All was silent, which was not a good thing in Batgirl's book. Much to her chagrin, Shiva slowly emerged from the smoke, looking no worse for wear. "I must say, I had forgotten that you knew to use my eyes against me. Hiding both arms was a new twist."

It took a moment for Batgirl to realize what Shiva meant, but occurred it did. Using his cape, he hid both arms, much like he had when they had fought the first time. Apparently this wasn't the first time he had done this to Shiva. Was using it against Shiva how he thought to use it against her?

"But you still fight like an amateur," Shiva stated. "This time I'll make sure to—"

Suddenly, her head perked up, cutting herself off. She then jumped backwards, passing through the thinning smoke cloud, even as it did nothing to hide her silhouette. An arrow struck the spot she had been standing, which was followed by another and another in quick fashion. Each one landed closer and closer to Shiva, but stopped as soon as they begun.

And then a figure landed on the rooftop. Going into a roll, the figure went head over feet before ending up crouched on one knee. Holding up a drawn bow, an arrow notched on the stretched bowstring, Green Arrow took aim right at Shiva. "Alright, ladies and gents, I think we've had just about enough fighting for one night," the archer proclaimed.

Whatever was left of the smoke cloud was fully dissipated now, leaving Shiva to glare at the new arrival. "Do you honestly think you stand a chance?" she growled at Green Arrow.

"Probably not, but I'm still willing to bet that I'll get a good hit or two," he replied. "And I'll be sure to make one of them one that takes a long time to heal."

Batgirl stood up to her full height then, retrieving her own batarang and holding it at the ready. Her movement caused Shiva to glance at her before returning her full attention to the green archer. Batman also took up a stance, one with his cape wrapped around him, hiding whatever he could do.

All of this, Shiva saw. Her eyes darted from Green Arrow, to Batgirl, to Batman, and then back. She seemed to weigh her odds before she straightened out her posture. "I think I've had enough of this." She then looked to Batman, "You can keep the girl for now, but I will take back what is mine, Detective."

Then she spun around on her heels, nonchalantly walking away. When she reached the ledge, she hopped off of it, disappearing over the roof's edge.

"Well, that ended better than I thought it would," Green Arrow remarked as he slowly released the tension in his bow. He kept the arrow notched, but the bow was back in its resting state.

Batman let out a sigh in response and dropped to one knee, taking several deep breaths. Immediately, Batgirl ran over to him, placing her hands on his shoulder. He glance up at her, staring at her before asking, "Are you okay?"

She gave a thin smile, one that caused the material over her mouth to show its outline. "I am okay. You aren't though."

"I have to agree with her. You look like crap," Green Arrow added.

Batman tilted his head so that he could look at the archer. "Thank you for your help. I don't think that would've ended favorably for us if you hadn't."

"Hey, I can't resist a good entrance any more than you can. Let's just say you owe me for now."

Batman grunted his response before he began to stand back up. Batgirl immediately moved against him, her side pressed against his as she moved an arm around his back. The man allowed her to brace him against her, something she was glad for.

"So, that was Shiva," Arrow spoke again, sounding as if he wanted to make small talk. "She was every bit as good as you said she was."

"Yes, she is."

"What are the chances she'll come back for revenge? I know her type and they have a knack for turning up at the wrong time to avenge themselves."

"I'm not sure," Batman admitted. "But I can say for certain this isn't the last we've seen of her."

* * *

By the time Flag had arrived back on the other side of the river, his recruit carried over a shoulder until he dumped him in a secure location, the commander found that there was a lot more activity happening than when he had left.

The command tent especially was busy. Even from a distance, he could hear Eiling's bellowing. Something had happened and Flag was willing to bet it involved that explosion he had heard earlier. His basic demolition training had informed him that someone had detonated a bomb, but there was some distance between it and the city proper. Because it didn't affect his mission, he had ignored it.

Now he wasn't going ignore it anymore.

Entering the command tent and approaching Eiling, Flag made himself known. "Status update. What happened?"

"Someone's trying to do our own damn jobs, that's what," Eiling snapped at him before visibly calming down. Flag took it with a grain of salt. "We had reports of an explosion over at the reservoir. I sent a scouting team out and they came back with intel that the place was bombed. Specifically, someone targeted the pipe system. As of now, there's no water leaving that place and heading to the city."

Wasn't that what they had wanted? Maybe not in the same manner, but the result was still the same.

"I fail to see how this is a problem, General. We wanted to shut the water off and now it is."

Eiling scowled. "Gordon had whatever cops he still has secure the facility. They found that all the water there was laced with that fear poison stuff, the same you were exposed to. Had any of it gotten out, we too would have been affected by it. That reservoir also serves this side of the river."

That caused Flag to pause. The presence of that bizarrely-dressed lunatic was recalled, and combined with the intel about the water supply being tainted, that meant there had been more going on than he had come to believe. The attack on the reservoir was more to protect the city than it was to attack Bane.

There was definitely more happening here than anyone imagined.

"I'm not liking this," Eiling stated, facing towards the island where millions of people were stranded and a foreign invader was trapped. "There's something about this city...I don't like it."

Now this was alarming. Eiling was not a superstitious man by any means. He was grounded in reality and pragmatism; his loyalty to his nation unwavering as he led many operations that most would see as distasteful. The General was that kind of man that was more than willing to get his hands dirty doing things the rest of the world would condemn. So to see and hear this, that alarmed Flag more than anything.

However, even he was starting to feel that things were spiraling out of their control. Someone was obstructing them at every turn and now was doing their jobs for them.

A part of him did not like that.

While he was pragmatic at heart, there was always a sense of pride he felt when a mission was accomplished. It meant that he was doing his duty, fulfilling his responsibilities and protecting his country. It didn't matter how or what means he used to succeed, all that mattered was that it ended as a success. That said, when the opposition did his job for him, it rankled as it meant he had been wasting time.

Still, he was seeing a bigger picture here in Gotham. What it added up to, he didn't like. Normally he would look for direction from the nearest high ranking officers if ever there was any uncertainty detected. In this case, Eiling was that officer, but Flag knew that the General was not the one really in charge. He was the face, the one whom the troops on the ground would listen to.

"This might be above both our pay grades," he finally responded. "We're going to need to talk with the boss."

That had Eiling whipping around, staring at him incredulously. "You're not serious!"

"Remember, we're soldiers. We do what we're told," the commando retorted. "It's the higher ups who make all the big decisions, and from what I see, we need a big decision."

"There's no need to bring her in on this," the general stated. "We're handling the situation."

"General, what makes you think she _hasn't _been involved this whole time?" Flag asked, settling back and waiting for his fellow soldier's answer.

Eiling opened his mouth, ready to answer, only to snap it shut. It opened again, repeating the same response as before and closing his mouth. It took a moment, but eventually the mustached man conceded, scowling.

"Fine. Make the call," the disgruntled officer grumbled, crossing his arms as he looked away.

Flag hadn't needed permission, but he would accept it anyway.

* * *

Arms folded over his chest, Bane stared at Tetch's completed machine, the tall, cylindrical tower rising from the floor and up to the ceiling itself. Just minutes ago, his puny henchman with the odd fashion sense had finished the last of his tweaks and finishing touches.

That was what Tetch had assured him of.

"Everything that can be finished is finished, my good sir. Everything that you desired has been inputted into the settings; everything you wanted it to master has been mastered; all you need now is to turn it on and let it do its work."

If Tetch was telling the truth, this marvel before him was about to win this unending war he found himself in at long last. Gotham would finally be in his grip from which he would never release it.

"It is twenty-four hours until all changes to the brain are permanent, correct?" the masked man half-asked, half-demanded.

"The number has never changed. While I realize that it may seem like a long time, time by its nature is relative and—"

"Cease your prattling and remain silent," he interrupted. "If I want you to speak, I will say so, but until then, say no more."

Tetch gulped, but did as he was ordered. In his hands, he gripped the brim of a top hat, a new one Bane noted. Where or how the diminutive man had managed to get his hands on another one was a mystery, one that could wait for another day. That reminded him…

Removing the headband that he had seized from the technological architect, he placed it over his head, allowing the band to rest and loop around his forehead. As he had noted before, there was no sense in him falling prey to his own ambitions.

"Zombie," Bane called out, waiting only for the affirmative before continuing. "Increase security. On the off chance someone attempts to intervene, I want all measures taken to ensure the success of this operation. Everyone is armed, safeties are off, and use all available hardware we have to protect this location. Use the helicopter; do not hold back."

"Your will shall be done," the thin Santa Priscan responded before turning to issue the edict.

Turning his attention back to Tetch, he issued his next order. "Activate the machine. Increase the range of the frequency to include the entire city. Leave nothing in its limits alone."

"Very well," Tetch nodded, taking his place before the control panel embedded in the metal tower's structure. With a hum, the mechanical leviathan came to life, and Bane could feel his heart rate pick up if only for a few seconds. This was it; all his labors and tactics had come to this moment and victory was finally in his grasp.

The masked Santa Priscan didn't have to look around to know that his remaining men were uncertain about this latest plan. Their kind was more capable with frontal assaults and combat; to place their trust in this metal monstrosity would take a leap of faith.

However, they began to straighten up, standing taller, and their eyes darting to look at him in awe and reverence. Even with their loyalty, they had fallen under the machine's sway. Meanwhile, thanks to the headband, Bane remained unaffected. Tetch's technological prowess seemed to know no boundaries.

"Increasing range," Tetch reported as a hand began to turn a dial. With each minuscule click it made, the machine's humming grew marginally louder.

As the dial continued to be turned, it brought Bane all the more closer to completion of his conquest.

* * *

To FlackAttack: More like Shiva fought harder because she was desperate to protect her pregnancy. Think of it as additional incentive to survive


	30. To Serve Bane

It started with a flickering of the lights, though the monitors continued to maintain power due to the internal batteries. Still, that was odd. A power surge perhaps?

Barbara shook her head at the thought. From the way she had designed this equipment, it all should have been immune from such a thing. While she still had work to do, the computer hacker took a moment to do a quick scan and see what could have caused this little bug.

"That's weird," she muttered. According the window that had popped up, the result of her query lit up in arial text, there was a sudden increase in electrical usage in the city. A big one in fact, thus prompting the city's power plant to increase production as fast as it could to meet the unexpected demand.

What could have—

A sharp beep and another window opened up. Frowning, she read this latest message.

It was an alert, one that warned her that there was a new addition to the city. Specifically, there was a new frequency—the best way she could describe it right now.

See, after the latest alien invasion that occurred over in Jump City, she had created this new program to monitor and identify any and all kinds of frequencies and communications. She had used both Gotham and Jump as means to not only test it out, but to keep track of all operations that were now part of the Network, though that had come unintentionally later. What could she say but that she wanted to make sure nothing happened to her man on the west coast?

This way, if there was another alien invasion that attempted to block on communication lines, she would know about it.

Today was the first time it had sounded the alarm.

But where was the source of this new frequency?

Immediately, she began opening up new searches, all to find out what was going on. With the whole city in crisis, this was not a new development that she wanted on the back burner. The last thing anyone needed was some new player trying to take advantage of the situation.

* * *

_Muscles pulled, sore and throbbing, protesting his every move. Bruce gritted his teeth as he weathered the intense onslaught. His hands squeezed tightly around the railings on either side of him, his knuckles going white from the tension._

_His eyes were shut tight until the pain, ever-present, lightened just a fraction. It wasn't much, but he was able to open his eyes. Sweat was pouring down his face and shoulders, his skin glistening from the moisture._

_Though the Tower of Fate was an ancient structure, modern upgrades had been made. Currently he was using one such change, a railing structure to help him stand. On either side of him at about waist-height were rails, the aforementioned ones he was clinging to. There was a black mat between them, grooves in the mat to help provide traction for his feet._

_This was his third time using this contraption and it was killing him._

_Most of the pain was from his back. That healing room that he had woken up in had done much to repair the damage, but it had done nothing for pain relief. On top of that, atrophy had set in during his coma, so he was far weaker than he would have liked. Physical therapy was his only solution to make a full recovery and regain his strength and he was determined to do so._

_Adjusting his grip on the railing with both hands, Bruce took in several deep breaths before he attempted to move his foot. It twitched, then twitched again, but slowly it rose off the traction mat._

_Of course, searing pain raced up from his lower back, going up and down his back and legs. He ignored this as best he could, willing his foot forward. When he couldn't' take it anymore, he promptly dropped his foot down. Eyes shut tight again, he suffered through the pain until it once again began to lighten. Eyes open, he then glanced down._

_An inch. He had covered a full inch. Though small, it was progress. Now he needed to work on his other foot to catch up._

_God almighty._

_There was a presence then, one that caused Bruce to straighten his posture instinctively, even as a sharp jolt burned into his spine. Standing still, he waited and waited until the blue and gold form of Dr. Fate drifted into sight, gliding from his left to float at the other end of this balance contraption._

"_You are pushing yourself much too fast," Fate intoned, staring at him through the white eyes of his helmet. "It's advisable that you end your therapy now."_

_Bruce glowered, but made no move to stop what he was doing. "My session is not finished yet."_

"_You are stressing your body out far more than it needs at this time. You will only set your recovery back should you continue."_

_There was some truth in that observation, but then Fate had never met someone like him. Well, he had, but it was in an entirely different timeline. The similarities in their mannerisms were uncanny though._

"_I'm certain you have a spell you could use to help prevent that," Bruce spat back sarcastically. "Either use it, or get out of my way."_

_Fate did not seem taken back by his brisk retort. "The girl you brought with you would be most sadden if you hurt yourself further."_

_That was a cheap shot, but he couldn't deny its effectiveness. "She's been worried ever since I was injured. The sooner I'm better, the happier she will be."_

"_Will she though?" Fate countered. "You know her as well as you know yourself. You intend on returning to battle and that will distress her. She will join you, but she will be constantly vigilant in maintaining your well-being."_

"_And yet, you and Zatanna both can heal me in an instant. She hasn't realize this just yet, so you can imagine when she does, she'll be highly cross with the both of you."_

_For once, the doctor was silent. It seemed he hadn't expected Bruce to turn the tables on him that way. "You are a curious person."_

_Well, that was one adjective he wasn't used to being called. "Define curious."_

"_Strange, odd, unique. They have all the same meaning."_

_Ah, that's what he meant. But then Fate continued._

"_Even stranger still, I have yet to come across someone like you in all my time as this tower's guardian."_

"_You'll have to explain that one."_

_Fate took a moment to contemplate, searching for the words he wished to convey. "From the moment you arrived in my tower, I was struck by your aura. It's unlike any I have ever encountered before. Darkness twisted with the unknown, yet bright and strong."_

_Twisted_—_that was a better word to describe him._

"_Further still, I sense a disconnect. I see death within you, but full of life. I see a line, broken, yet whole. Even time itself makes very little sense. That has never happened before."_

_Bruce raised an eyebrow. "Never?"_

"_Never."_

_Bruce stated at the man, yet didn't. In another lifetime, the two had been comrades in a singular purpose. That purpose would never exist. However, he had learned about this man from their very few encounters. It was time to see if his knowledge was still intact. "I understand you are neutral in all matters."_

_Fate nodded his head. "I am. The power I wield is too great a threat to reality itself. The future_—_Fate itself_—_cannot be altered."_

"_And if I told you I know such a time that you did intervene?"_

_Fate stared at him. "Explain."_

"_I first need your full confidence," Bruce countered. "Not a word of this leaves this room."_

_To Fate's credit, he didn't immediately respond. Several moments passed before he nodded. "You have my confidence."_

Bruce blinked his eyes, his mind foggy and dazed. He wasn't sure why that memory at the Tower of Fate was visiting him. Nothing remotely similar was happening to make it come to the forefront.

The conversation he and Fate shared, however, had not been shared as requested. If there was anyone that could be counted on to learn of the future he had visited, Fate was such a person. His tale had shaken the man far more than he had ever seen. In fact, Fate was now actively searching all plains, be they mystical or physical, for any signs of that dystopia's emergence. He had another recruit to safeguard this timeline and a powerful one at that.

The chirping of bats shook the man out of his musings. He was back at the Cave, Cassandra fidgeting next to the armrest of his chair. Kneeling before him was Zatanna, the dark-haired woman holding her hands on either side of his unmasked head. Her eyes were glazed over as she searched for...whatever was wrong with him.

It was hard to describe, really. Ever since that headache in the alley, he felt as if he were blind or deaf. Some sense of his was missing, though nothing as impactful as his sight and hearing. Yet it was there and he had felt it during his fight with Shiva. He hadn't been that outmatched against her since their first training session, something that would be fatal should they cross paths again.

After the fight, they had returned to the bunker and Cassandra had demanded Zatanna take them to the Cave. She had done so, obviously, and then went about tending their wounds.

Suddenly, Zana's eyes focused. "There's something, but it's not magical. It's like a block of some kind," she said.

"Can you undo it?" Bruce immediately asked.

Zana stared at him before she gave him a wink. As if on cue, Bruce felt something change. Immediately, he could sense Cassandra's presence next to him. Curious, he hadn't noticed how dull she had felt, how distant that feeling was. Now she was right next to him and he could feel the nervous energy from the girl.

That had to be it. His awareness had been dulled. No wonder Shiva held the upper hand like she had. He hadn't been able to read her body language—though he was not on her level, he did have the training for it.

How the hell had this happened?

"Is everything alright?" Cassandra then demanded, causing the adults to look at her.

"Well, as alright as anything can be with Bruce," Zatanna quipped, smirking at the girl. "The bumps and bruises will go away on their own and whatever mental block is gone now. My work here is done."

The girl sighed. It was clear she was relieved by this. Then she straightened out her posture, determination writing itself on her face. "Good. We...we need to talk."

Ugh, those words. Why was it women all over the world used those words? Nothing good ever came from them. Though Bruce wanted nothing more than to avoid whatever conversation was coming, he noticed the a look Zana was throwing at him. It was telling him he was going to stay right where he was and listen.

Except there was complete silence. Despite the determination on his daughter's face, she started to fidget, revealing her growing unease. All the while, he just watched her and waited.

"I know you said no one was supposed to fight Shiva," Cassandra finally began, nervousness evident in her tone. "But she had surprised us all and we had no choice."

Bruce didn't say anything to that. He just continued to look at the girl, letting her go at her own pace. He had a feeling where this was going.

"And then she recognized me. I...I had to use a technique...that I learned from my teacher with the Court. She knew the move and unmasked me."

That wasn't too surprising. Shiva was a veritable encyclopedia on martial arts moves. She would have faced a Talon, or possibly Owlman—Cassandra's former sensei. How and where was unknown, though he doubted the encounter would have ended well for Shiva's opponent.

"And then she called me her daughter."

"_My business is with my wayward daughter behind you." _ He recalled Shiva's words instantly, a bolt of lightning running up and down his spine. He had forgotten due to the subsequent fight.

"That's why I went with her. She...I thought she was my family—real family."

That caused Bruce to narrow his eyes. "What makes you think we aren't a family?"

"Because I'm not your child," the girl immediately responded. "I know you took me in and did all of that legal stuff. But now you have an actual child with that woman. There's no place for me here. And that woman...I thought she…"

Bruce immediately shot a hand forward, his hand wrapping around her shoulder, squeezing it tightly. "Stop that right now," he ordered, cutting her off. Zana shot him an exasperated look in response, but he didn't give her a chance to reprimand him. "You _are_ my family. It doesn't matter if it's by blood, parentage, or a legal document. No matter where you go, what you do, who you become, it doesn't change how I feel about you."

"But what about that boy? Damian?"

Bruce lowered his head in thought for a moment before he returned his gaze to the girl. "I don't know him. I...would like to, but not at the expense of you. For all I know, Talia was lying about that part. Regardless, whether he's my son or not, it doesn't change the fact that your place is here."

Cassandra slowly nodded in response, her eyes lowering to stare at the ground. "Thank you," she practically whispered.

"Is that all?"

She took several moments before she answered him. "No, it isn't." She looked back to him, more certain than she had previously. "I've had to do some thinking. After everything with your trip to the future, meeting Shiva—I realize that there is something missing."

"What's missing?" he ventured.

"Shiva had this plan for me. And I think you have a plan for me as well. That future me became who she was without your influence or hers. I...I need to do that too. I need to find out who I want to be."

Bruce glanced to Zatanna, who shot him the same look. Clearly she didn't know what the girl was talking about either.

Cassandra didn't miss the exchange. "All this time, I've been trying to find my place. I thought it was as your sidekick. I was happy with you telling me what to do. I felt a purpose. But then the green man changed my mind around. You then stopped me from doing what I wanted to do. I wanted so badly to go back to what I was that I never thought of what I wanted to become. Now I am. I need to find that out—and I think I need to do that alone."

What was she saying? Was she leaving? No, he wouldn't allow it. Tensing on the chair, Bruce readied himself to push himself out of his chair. He wouldn't let her out of this Cave until—

"Batgirl needs to be someone people fear, just like you," she continued, which stopped Bruce's thoughts in their tracks. "Up until now, people have only thought of her as an extension of you. It's time that she went solo."

There was a sniff, which caused the two dark-haired people to look to Zatanna. She was rubbing a finger under her eye, wiping away a tear. "They grow up so fast, don't they?" she said.

"I'm failing to see how this is so amusing," Bruce grumbled at her.

"It's okay if you don't like the idea," Cassandra said quickly. "Just...think about it. We can talk about this again later."

Before he could continue to take this conversation further, the computer suddenly blared out an alarm. "_Batman!"_ Oracle's voice rang out from the intercom. "_Come in, Batman! We have a problem!"_

* * *

It had started as a ringing sound, the kind that seemed to happen whether you wanted it to or not. Gordon was fine with waiting it out; it wasn't the first time his hearing had decided to go on break before.

But Bane wouldn't want him to be idle. The man would want him to be doing something, accomplishing some task, anything that would serve that great leader.

Something about that thought felt..._wrong_. Yet, the Commissioner couldn't find any logic to support it. That great man was trapped on that island across the river, cut off by the destroyed bridges. It was starting to become fuzzy and hard to recall why the bridges were damaged so. From what he could remember, he could have sworn it was them, which didn't make sense.

Someone else seemed to share that opinion and it wasn't surprising that it was General Eiling. It seemed that the sight of a bridge missing a large segment in it was reaching his mind and the decorated officer was already shouting out orders.

"I don't know whose bright idea this was, but we need to get that Goddamn bridge fixed! Grab whatever you can, figure out something to make so Bane can cross the damn river. I don't care if it's steel or concrete or Goddamn wood, just fix it already!"

The National Guard were scrambling to obey, grabbing anything and everything they could that could even be considered building material. Even Gordon was looking around, trying to see what he could bring for the effort.

Whatever they had been thinking, or whoever had thought of it in the first place, they were wrong. There had to be a way that they could change this, maybe get their hands on a boat? That idea had some merit to it.

He needed to find Sarah, put their heads together, and see how they could best serve this great man while making up for their past misdeeds.

Gotham belonged to Bane, it always had, and everything they did was for his glory.

* * *

The department had been down, especially after taking such a hit like losing Petit. The man had fallen in action, a hero giving up his life in service.

While Sawyer had her reservation about the man, you could honestly say that his heart was in the right place. All he had wanted to do was protect this city and he had made the ultimate sacrifice to do so.

Hopefully it was one that Bane would praise.

In the wake of Petit's death, as the rest of the GCPD was coming to grips with the loss of one of its leaders, a fervor had started to take hold. The police needed to do something, something that would solidify its position and show that they were far from finished. The majority had figured that a show of force was what they had to do, to prove that they were still a force to be reckoned with.

Naturally, they ended up split into two different groups. They both agreed on what they needed to do; it was just how they did it where the disagreement lied.

"You can't seriously think killing them all is sane!" Sawyer argued. "We're officers of the law, Bane's law! We should be arresting these people and letting him decide!"

"You think Bane cares about judging? Anyone who opposes him is already guilty!" an officer on the other side of the debate retorted. "We'll just be saving him some time!"

"We're cops, damn it!" she yelled back, raising her voice. "We protect and serve! Have you forgotten that?! We have to take them in alive! That's how we do this!"

"Anyone who thinks they can challenge Bane deserves nothing less but two in their head!" was the answer. This response was followed up with the pumping of a shotgun.

Damn it, this was getting out of hand, even more so with guns being pulled out and shown off.

"Who gave any of you the right to be executioner? Last I checked, Bane hadn't!" Sawyer tried to press her case.

In the back of her mind, something felt off, like the words coming out of her mouth made no sense. It was weird and she brushed it aside; now was not the time for any kind of reflection, or inner struggle. She needed to be fully capable if she wanted to try and convince half the department not to go out on a shooting spree to impress Bane.

They were here to enforce the law, Bane's law.

What was Bane's law, though? For the life of her, she couldn't remember and that was something she desperately needed right now.

"Shut up, you dumb bitch! We all know what we need to do. We need to bring Bane's order to this city and put an end to all this goddamn fighting," a male cop called out over the large room filled with cops, desks, and paperwork. "We've tried handcuffs and warrants already. It's time we starting going out in force and showing everyone that Bane's in charge. Who's with me?!"

And it was spiraling out of control. Right now, they could really use Gordon because he always knew how to negotiate situations like these that kept the hotheads under leash and maintain whatever dignity the GCPD had. Unfortunately, he was on the other side of the river, so it was left to her to try and lead those who still respected the rule of law.

But as the seconds ticked by, it seem any kind of rule around here was being thrown out the window for the promise of satisfaction that going on a vigilante-esque rampage offered.

If only Bane were here to give them the guidance they needed.

* * *

Living century after century conveyed unexpected benefits. One such benefit was a finely-tuned instinct, one cultivated decade after decade after decade. It was what gave Ra's al Ghul an edge over every opponent he had encountered. He knew how other men thought before they even had their thoughts.

It was this instinct that told the ancient man something was wrong. Eyes sharpened with intensity as he stared in front of him. It matter not what was in front of him, he saw right through it. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled and stood straight up. A feeling of dread welled up within him. Something was coming, he could feel it, taste it, hear it—

Wait, what was that sound?

There was something compulsory about it. It urged, nay, commanded him. No one, not even a sound commanded the Demon's Head. The last time he had been given an order that he willingly followed was from his parents, something done out of respect for them.

Through sheer will, he blocked the sound, its persuasive power lessening and lessening until he no longer heard it.

His mental defenses in place, Ra's turned his head towards the closest window. Something was going on in the city tonight. He would need to get to the bottom of whatever it was.

"Demon's Head," someone called out to him. Immediately, he snapped his head back to find a couple of his men standing before him, the ones standing guard by the door to be exact. Each one was pulling out their swords, cautiously approaching him.

Ra's narrowed his eyes. His men _never_ used that name. All used the the honorific bestowed upon him and he expected no less. Who were these men?

Holding their swords in front of them, their tips pointed towards the older man, one of them demanded, "Surrender yourself in the name of Bane."

Ra's recognized the man's voice; he was one of his own, not an infiltrator of Bane's. No, this was something else entirely.

That's when it occurred to him. That sound, it was attempting to tell him to follow Bane. So _that's_ what was going on. Somehow, the masked man had created some sort of sound wave that took over lesser being's minds and made them loyal to him. It was an unexpected tactic and one Ra's had to applaud. He had known Bane was beginning to run out of reliable pawns, so he needed to recruit once more. To take over his opponent's men was a stroke of genius.

It was only unfortunate that his own men were turning against him.

"Lay your blades down," he ordered his men, standing tall before them. "If you do, I may spare your lives for this treason."

"We do not fear you, Demon's Head," his guard intoned. "We will be greatly rewarded should we bring your head to Bane."

It seemed talking was of little use here. Grabbing the hilt to his sword, Ra's drew his blade, holding it at his side. "Come then. Come face your Master and your doom."

* * *

Talia was not satisfied, not yet at least. The large room she was in would be her office for the time being and needed to be appropriately furnished. So far, several pieces that had met her approval had been placed, including a large desk, a couch with an accompanying coffee table, and a minibar should she wish to entertain. There was still much left to bring in, however.

Seated in a chair—one that was temporary—she organized the contents of her desk drawers. For someone of her profession, she needed to make sure that not only office supplies were kept here. She had already installed a gun holster with a loaded gun, along with a few other useful items.

"Mooooother," Damian bemoaned from the other side of the room. "How much longer are we going to be here?"

"Patience, Damian," she lightly reprimanded. Finishing off her task with her current drawer, she shut it closed. "All good things come to those who wait."

"Grandfather requested your presence hours ago though," he continued to complain. "He's not going to be happy with you. You're not even dressed right!"

True, Talia was not in her combat suit, instead dressed in business formal. "Your grandfather is a patient man, Damian," she chidded him. "There is much you can learn from his example."

"Like what?"

Before she could even begin, Talia heard something. Head perking up, her body visibly flinched and she found herself wanting to obey. Obey...Bane…

Immediately, Talia shot a hand to one of her desk drawers, ripping it open. Inside of it laid a number of small, handheld cases, one of which she snatched up and open. Inside of it were two earplugs, which she quickly shoved into her ears. Instantly, the sound ended and she couldn't help but sigh.

What was that? Whatever it was, it wanted her to do Bane's bidding, something she felt herself detesting. In fact, it was revolting. She would sooner cut her own arm off than do that man's bidding.

There was a crash then, causing Talia to jerk her head up. Though she could no longer hear that odd sound, she could hear a lamp crashing to the floor. The earplugs were of a specialized material that blocked out certain tones, or sound frequencies. She only used them when encountered with hypersonic defenses, so it was a good idea to keep a pair around just in case.

Eyes finding the broken lamp, she found Damian standing by the mess, his eyes glazed over. Talia's heart sank as she realized what was going on. "Mother," he moaned out before his eyes slide over towards her. Slowly standing up from her chair, hands pressed on the desk, she could feel dread filling her.

"Damian, what are you—?" she began to ask.

"Bane," the boy groaned. "He calls to us. We must go to him."

_Bane._ Already, the taste of bile was in her mouth, souring. That sound, it was some sort of mind control. Her child detested the man just as much as she did. That Damian would say they should do as that man ordered galled her.

How _dare_ he mind control her own child.

"We will not," Talia stated sternly, moving around the desk, her high-heels click on the floor. "We will do no such thing."

"But we must, Mother. His orders are absolute."

"I do not care, Damian; now you will—"

Suddenly, Damian's glazed eyes sharpened. "No, Mother! We will do as told! We have to! Do not make me force you!"

Talia stopped in her tracks. Damian would _make _her do Bane's bidding? "You are much too young to be telling your mother what to do."

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

Suddenly, Damian rushed at her, throwing a fist towards her. Due to their difference in height, his attack was going in low, aimed for her stomach. Bending her legs to lower herself, Talia blocked the blow, backpedaling as Damian launched punch after punch at her. Arms up, she blocked each punch with her forearms, always taking another step back with each successful block.

"Damian, stop this right now!" she demanded as she moved by her desk.

"Never, traitor!" he cried out.

That was enough. Watching as Damian drew back yet another fist and then throw it, Talia sidestepped the attack, her child flying right by her as she turned to follow his forward movement. Raising a hand up, fingers stiffened together and thumb curled into her palm, she delivered a chop to the back of the boy's neck, a pained cry escaping his lips before he collapsed to the floor in a heap.

Immediately, Talia was kneeling next to her child, checking for a pulse before she was satisfied that he was unconscious. Her poor, sweet Damian.

Anger then wrote itself on her face. How _dare_ Bane force her to strike her child? He would pay with his life for such a transgression. No one messed with a mother's cub and lived.

* * *

The traffic cameras could only provide so much information. Accessing and crossing checking every camera he could through the Cave's supercomputer, Bruce could only find the same eerie scene over and over.

The streets were empty, devoid of life. Ever since the National Guard had blown the bridges to the city, Gotham's residence had limited their time outdoors. This could be attributed to Bane's mercenaries and Ra's assassins killing anyone and anything they found. There was also the collateral damage caused by the two forces as well. On top of that, gang activity had quietly began to assert itself in the forgotten areas.

So without a visual on the streets, other means were necessary. "Computer, search for any abnormalities present in Gotham," he ordered.

Immediately, the computer went to work, the screen flashing with light as new windows opened and shut, sometimes in the blink of an eye, other times long enough to indicate what their purpose was. Lines of data would appear, then disappear once the window shut.

A minute went by, then another, and then another. Then a new window appeared, flashing from black to red and back over and over. Something was detected and Bruce narrowed his eyes at the report he read.

There was some sort of frequency active. It was running in a range at the upper limits of human hearing. It was likely most people couldn't hear it, but those with more sensitive senses could. "Oracle, I've got something," he said.

"_What is it?"_ the computer hacker asked.

"There appears to be a frequency running throughout the city. I haven't figured out what its purpose is, but it's definitely not something that belongs."

"_Then you might want to check out a CCTV camera from the east side. I think you really need to see this."_

"Computer, access all CCTV cams in grid 51," he immediately commanded. A new window opened, revealing a large grid of squares, camera footage filling each one. It was in the one second from the right, second from the bottom that he saw what Oracle was talking about.

One of the gangs was on the move. They were armed and proudly proclaiming their colors. That wasn't too unusual. Their numbers were alarming, but nothing that couldn't be handled. However, he could see mouths moving, though there wasn't any sound.

"Can we get any audio?" Zatanna asked from his side, the magician watching the feed.

Bruce shook his head. "Standard security cameras don't come with microphones; those cost extra money the city wasn't willing to invest in."

"Oh, now they want to go cheap," the dark-haired woman muttered. "Well then, I guess that's where magic will come in handy."

Shooting her a questioning look, he watched as Zatanna held a hand towards the screen and chanted, "Evig em dnuos." Immediately, the speakers turned out and a mixture of voices filled the Cave. It took a moment, but eventually Bruce understood what was being said.

"_Bane! Bane! Bane! Bane!"_

Those men, they were chanting out Bane's name. It wasn't that of an enraged mob either; it sounded as if they were in full support of the man. Most gangs had steered clear of Bane once he had taken over, sticking to small scale operations to avoid his attention. The few that had engaged with him found themselves an extension of his organization, unwilling foot soldiers doing his bidding. Those that had resisted had been permanently removed.

Upon the Dark Knight's return to Gotham, he had sought out intel on every gang's standing, finding that most wanted nothing to do with Bane. The group currently marching the streets in the man's name was one such gang. The sudden change in heart was worrisome.

Bruce narrowed his eyes then. "Computer, analyze the frequency." Several moments went by before a report was given, which only increased his ire.

"Oracle, there's something with that unknown frequency," he reported. "There some sort of compulsory signal with in it. Somehow it's affecting those men."

"_How is that possible?"_ the woman questioned. "_I'm in the center of the city and I'm not hearing a thing. And you're...wherever you are."_

That was a fair point. Hitting several keys, Bruce input a command to see how widespread the signal was. His eyes widened when he saw not only was Gotham within range, but a large radius outside of the city was as well. Even Wayne Manor was within range.

Yet, the signal wasn't reaching within the Cave. Perhaps the underground acoustics were jumbling the signal into nonsensical noise, or perhaps the walls were acting as a buffer. That would explain why he, Zatanna, and Cassandra weren't falling over themselves for Bane. As for Oracle…

"Oracle, what countermeasures have you put in place to prevent a hacking?"

He heard the girl blew some air out of her mouth as she considered his question, her breath blowing against her mic. "_Thanks to your upgrades, I've made sure nothing can come in through wi-fi. It would take a landline just to access my system and even then someone would have to know where to look. There's insulation in the walls to prevent jamming signals...hey, maybe that's why I'm not hearing the signal."_

"It could very well be," he agreed.

There was a moment of silence before, "_I think it's only my computer room though. The rest of my apartment isn't equipped."_

"Then stay in that room until the signal goes away. In the meantime, track down its source. Batgirl and I are on our way."

Shutting off the transmission, Bruce turned and snatched up his mask from where he had discarded it, shoving it over his head. "Uhh, just a second, Bruce," Zatanna spoke, moving in front of him to prevent him from leaving. "What about me? You're going to need me on this."

"No way," he immediately responded. "That signal is doing something to the people in Gotham and you're the last person I want to be affected. A few words from you could do some serious damage. You'll need to stay in the Cave until we stop it."

"And what about you? And Cassandra? You're not immune to it either," she countered.

Batman shook his head. "Our cowls were designed to block out sound frequencies. We'll be okay as long as we keep our masks on."

Zatanna was quiet after that. "Oh. Then what can I do to help?"

"Do the same as Oracle. Find out whatever you can on this signal. Relay any hot spots that require our attention."

"I'm getting a strong case of deja vu here."

Batman didn't bother to reply to that. Instead, he stepped around the dark-haired woman and marched towards the car, Batgirl keeping up next to him. "You be careful out there," he said to her, his tone low and soft—for him.

"You too," she replied just as quietly. "Where are we going first?"

"Hopefully to where this signal is coming from. If not, we need to make sure the gangs don't reach Bane."

"Because they'll make a bigger army for him?"

"Worse: most of these gangs don't like each other. Unless this signal is completely brainwashing, I get the feeling there's going to be a lot of crossfire tonight."

* * *

The time was now. Bane was ruling this city, just like he knew he was. If it weren't for all his homies being cowards, they would've had the first ticket to taking over this dump. But no, they wanted to stay out of his way and scrounge for scraps. Jesse didn't blame them for wanting to stay out of Bane's way, but they missed an opportunity.

But now they finally came around. All of them were marching the streets with chains, baseball bats, and guns, ready to join Bane's call. He could hear it in the air. He felt it was finally time to be the top dog. The Bat was gone, despite what others had been saying lately. Just some nutjob thinkin' he could do what the Bat did, nothing more.

However, there was a problem.

See, Jesse was part of the LoBoys. They were based right out of South Gotham, or at least that's the way it started. The Bat had pushed them right into the southern part of East Gotham, right into what used to be the territory for the Demonz. LoBoys and Demonz didn't get along at all. Demonz were punk ass bitches that ganged up on a brother in a back alley. At least with the LoBoys, if they had a problem with ya, they'd tell it to your face and then shoot ya. There was honor in that.

But now, the Demonz were out in force too and they stood between the LoBoys and Bane. Jesse gripped his metal pipe, not because he was scared—he wasn't no punk ass bitch—but because he was ready to go smack a couple Demonz upside their heads. The problem was that the Demonz came armed too.

"Yo! You LoBoys better go back to yo mama's house!" one of the Demonz shouted at them, followed by a whole bunch of hooting and hollering from his boys. "Else we're gonna have to beat ya black and blue!"

Punk ass. Why didn't he say that shit to his face instead of with his army of boys? Little bitch. "Get out of our way, bro!" Jesse shouted back, throwing up his hand as he showed off his pipe. "Bane's calling us, dipshits! Unless you want him to curb stomp yo asses, you best get out of our way!"

The shouting from the Demonz quieted down. Then their head, Lil Kyle shoved his way to the front. See what he meant? Their leader hid in the back like a total bitch. "Yo, who said you could join Bane!" Lil Kyle shouted at them. "We're the ones joining Bane!"

Oh, that mother fucker! "No way, homes, you better pack your little bitch bag because there ain't no way Bane's letting your punk ass join him! He only wants the best and you ain't it!"

The LoBoys started cheering from behind Jesse. He knew his boys would have his back. Lil Kyle shot back, "Go look in yo mama's mirror cause you just talking about yoself! I'll sooner be dead than let you work for Bane! You'd just fail him like you failed your girl in bed!"

The Demonz got fired back up again, hollering once more while the LoBoys shouted shit back. Jesse just pointed his pipe at Lil Kyle. This was a day he'd been waiting for a long time. Today, he was going to bash Lil Kyle's head in and that was long overdue. "You wanna prove you're worthy to fight for Bane? Then prove yoself! LoBoys! Let's kick some Demonz ass!"

There was a loud cheer and then Jesse was running, his homies right behind him. The Demonz screamed like little bitches before they started running too. Tonight they were going to settle this.

And it would be the LoBoys marching the rest of the way to Bane.

* * *

The LoBoys and Demonz are gangs from the No Man's Land story line. I needed to use some gang names and No Man's Land has a ton to offer.

To FlackAttack: AV and I have been holding onto Tetch for some time. We believe it'll pay off nicely


	31. Bane's Network

"Okay, okay, okay, how am I going to find out where this damn frequency is coming from?"

Barbara was keeping a couple of her monitors open to relay the latest event happening in the city, and the images of people coming out of hiding all to cheer on the man who had struck terror into them all made her feel sick to her stomach. She needed the reminder of what the imminent future looked like so that she could figure what was causing it all in the first place.

Ooh, on that monitor, it looked like some of these new Bane cheerleaders were starting to pick a fight with one another. It figures that even if they all agreed that Bane was the man, they would still find some differences between each other to fight over.

But how was Bane doing this? Based on all her research on the man and his past, something like this didn't gel. He came from a third world country, grew up in a prison, led a coup against a military junta, and invaded Gotham. Everything he did was physical and involved a lot of brute force and property damage.

However, the stereotype of him being a roided-out thug was tempered by recalling his tactical and strategic genius. He was smart, smart enough to bring Gotham to the brink and now it appeared he was able to finally push it over.

Okay, don't get lost in such thoughts. Everyone needed her right now to figure out the solution to this problem. The computer hacker had already contacted Batman about it, and he had tasked her with finding out everything about this frequency.

That meant the first order of business was finding out where it originated. That was easier said than done, as while her equipment was picking it up, for the life of these machines, they couldn't figure out what it was they were dealing with. It wasn't a radio frequency, or wi-fi, or anything that a machine could understand. It was like dealing with a foreign language, but without a translation program.

You could recognize it as a language, but you were damned if you could understand any part of it.

The fact that it was so widespread gave her a clue that Barbara desperately needed. Whatever was making this frequency, it had to use some kind of power source, right? Since this was an American city, electricity would have to be that power source. It wasn't like they had some artificial alien tech that used something else or anything.

No sooner had she come to that conclusion that the lighting in her Oracle room dimmed again. It was only for a couple seconds, but more than enough to draw her attention away from her monitors. She did not like this. Sure, she still had the backup generator, but still.

Hmm. Why did it seem like she was losing power at the same time this frequency was changing the hearts and minds of Gotham's citizens?

Deciding to check on the city's power plant, she hacked into the station's systems and found that the electrical output had been increased to meet the sudden demand. What was really abnormal was that Gotham's sudden electrical needs were off the charts.

Where was it all going to?

"Batman, I found something out. It looks like something is overtaxing the power grid. If I can figure out where it's all going, I think I can find out where this frequency is coming from," she immediately reported.

"_Follow it. Keep me updated when you find something._"

The fact that Batman was hot on the case was enough to relax her, though not to the point where it slowed her down. The Dark Knight would figure out a way to stop all this, but he needed to know where to go first.

It would be up to Oracle to help him figure it out.

* * *

The fighting was intense. Perched at the corner of a building, Batman looked down as not one, not two, but four gangs that were at war with each other. Since his departure from the Cave, Zatanna had been feeding him regular updates as to the state of Gotham. Unfortunately, two gangs had ran into each other, the Demonz and the LoBoys and fighting had broken out just as quickly. While they were fighting with each other, two more gangs had happened onto the battle and had joined in. It was a free-for-all down there and it didn't look as if it would be stopping any time soon.

Next to him was Batgirl, crouched much like he was. Their capes were draped over their bodies, a slight breeze playing at the ends. She was just waiting on his signal on when to handle this situation.

"_I can see you two in place, ya know,"_ Zatanna said over their comm links. "_Are you going to actually take care of this, or are you waiting on something?"_

Considering how large the brawl was, it wasn't a good idea to just jump in. Yes, it needed to be stopped, but swinging in blindly was a good way to get tired considering the much larger number involved. That was a good way to leave yourself wide open for a luck shot. They needed to be smart about this.

"Is there anything else you can tell us about this?" Batman responded back. "Is a side where the fighting is weakening? Where is it heaviest? I need more intel."

"_There isn't much, to be honest. As you can see, it's centralized to that one intersection and its spilling down the streets an all four directions. I'm not seeing the police on the way either. I've checked the cameras around the nearest precincts and they all seemed to be prepping themselves, but there's no signs they're going to actually help out."_

There was a brief moment of silence. Then, "_Oh great, I got audio now and you won't believe this. The _cops _are talking about joining Bane too. That's the gangs _and _the police now."_

Batman narrowed his eyes at that report. Continuing to watch the brawl, he could hear some snippets that weren't screaming and gunshots. Every once in awhile, he heard Bane's name called out. It wasn't in rage, or sorrow either. It was in adulation. These gangs were fighting _for_ Bane.

This was too coincidental to ignore. There were too many groups antagonistic to each other to be wanting to support the same person. Hell, there was a war being fought for the right to serve the man. Ergo, Bane had to be behind this.

How had he done it though? His traditional M.O. had been to crush anyone and everyone in front of him. He plotted, he manipulated, he took advantage, and he had no problem with dirtying his own hands to further his own ends. The signal he was using was more like brainwashing, which was an entirely new tactic. If anything this was something out of the Mad Hatter's playbook.

Batman jolted at that thought, head perking up. This caused Batgirl to look to him, sensing his sudden movement. The signal, he wouldn't be surprised at all if it was the same frequency as the one Jervis Tetch used to create his own Wonderland. Proof needed to be collected of course, but that would only take a minute.

"Zatanna," he spoke into his comm link. "I want you to run an analysis on the signal. Specifically, I want to know what if its wavelength is between angstrom units .004 and .005."

"_Just a second."_ There was a long pause, but eventually the dark-haired woman responded. "_Yeah, it fits perfectly there. How did you know?"_

A scowl formed on the vigilante's face. "A few years ago, a scientist with an obsession with _Alice in Wonderland _created a mind control technology that completely took over his victims. They were his veritable slaves. I ran some tests after I apprehended him and discovered the signal his tech used to affect his victims was in that frequency."

"_Are you telling me this guy is up to his old tricks again, only this time he's brainwashing people to work for Bane?"_

"More like Bane has gotten a hold of Tetch's work and is using it for his own benefit. He's trying to turn the entire city of Gotham into his own army."

As grandiose as that sounded, there was something not quite right with it. For once, when Tetch had been active, his devices had a limited range. They had only covered three levels of an upscale hotel in downtown Gotham. For a signal to cover not only Gotham, but the surrounding areas, it had to be strengthened considerably. There weren't a lot of people that could do that, not without having a firm grasp of Tetch's work. Bane either found someone that did, or had found another solution.

Or maybe he hired Tetch to work for him as well. Bane had already shown he had no such qualms with hiring outside of his organization when needing help.

"_Well, that's a pain in the ass,"_ Zatanna remarked. "_So what did you do to stop this Tetch guy the first time?"_

"I broke the connection between Tetch and his device. However, the signal strength wasn't this strong the first time. Somehow it's been augmented and strengthened."

"_So we need to find where the source of this is. That's easier said than done, ya know."_

While true, at least they now had a goal in mind. They would need to diffuse the fighting here first and then find where the source of the signal was coming from. Hand reaching to his belt, Batman reached into the pouch that held his concussion detonator. The device was created for this very scenario; it was time to use it for its intended purpose.

There was a crunching sound behind him. That was the only warning he got before alarms went off in his head. Spinning to his left, his cape whirled out behind him, Batgirl doing the same only in the opposite direction. A thin arrow struck the roof right where they had been kneeling an instant later.

Completing his one-eighty turn, Batman found himself coming face-to-face with what looked like the entire Network. Huntress stood front and center, holding her crossbow up as she reloaded it with another bolt. It was no secret who had just fired on them.

"Huntress," Batman growled dangerously, eyeing the appearance of Black Canary, Nightwing, and the others behind her, the group fanning out as if they all wanted to be visible to him. "What the hell are you doing?"

"What does it look like?" the purple-clad woman responded back snidely, completing her reload before she aimed her crossbow at him again.

"Put it down," Batgirl demanded, her agitation showing in her tone.

"Or what? The big, bad, Bat is going to send you to fight all of us on his behalf?" Huntress snorted. "You're good, I'll give you that, but you can't take all of us on at the same time."

"So do yourself a favor and surrender," Black Canary added as she moved to stand next to the dark-haired woman. "You know very well we have no problem taking you on."

Batman's jaw tightened as he came to realize what was going on. "You've decided to join, Bane, haven't you," he stated.

"The World's Greatest Detective, people," Manhunter responded mockingly.

Damn it, he should have expected this to happen. None of the Network's members were protected from Bane's signal, so naturally they had fallen to its siren call. They must have tracked them here and came out in full force.

"_Oh, Jesus,"_ he heard Zatanna say in his ear. "_Don't tell me the other vigilantes are on Bane's side too. You're gonna need my help."_

"Stay where you are," Batman immediately ordered. "You come out here and it's all over."

It seemed the Network mistaken what he had said, believing he had been saying it to them. "Not on your life, pal," Huntress said. "Surrender, or we'll break your back just like Bane did. It's your choice. Please, pick the second one."

Lowering his tone, he continued into his comm link, "Just work on finding the source of the signal, or maybe even something to jam it. Batgirl and I have this." He glanced to the young girl, who returned his look. "You ready?"

She gave him a sharp nod.

"Go."

* * *

There was static, high-pitched and shrill. It's source was a two-way radio, one held firmly in Talia's hand.

It had been providence that she had discovered this sound. After ensuring Damian would not be in any danger, not to mention able to get himself into trouble while she was gone, Talia had discovered her child was not the only one falling victim to that strange sound. The bodyguards her father arranged had fallen under its spell as well.

Defeating them had been a chore, but she was successful in that endeavor. During the fighting, one of the guard's radios had fallen to the floor and began making that sound. Picking it up, she then toyed with the settings and various frequencies, discovering that this sound was what was causing this state of affairs.

Whomever was behind this, they had not anticipated their frequency being picked up by such a small radio. Even better, the sound grew louder the closer she came to it. All she had to do was follow it and she would find the source.

Transversing building after building, the dark-haired woman couldn't help but glance to the streets below. It wasn't every street corner, but she saw conflict more times than not. The very sight of men fighting men disgusted her. It wasn't as if these people fighting for survival, or for a great cause; no, they were fighting because they couldn't stand each other and refused to co-exist. It was the epitome of what her father had been saying about mankind all along.

And then the buildings changed. It had been a slow change from the tall, elegant buildings of downtown Gotham to the grimier, squatter buildings of the industrial sector. The sound coming from her radio was growing louder too, so she knew she was on the right track.

And then she slowed her speed, taking cover behind an a/c unit. The next building over, she spied movement. Lowering the volume on her radio, she kept a sharp eye out, waiting to see who or what was on the next roof.

That's when she saw one...no, two of Bane's men patrolling the top of the building. If these men were here, then she was definitely close to Bane himself. She hadn't expected any less, though the amount of guards was lacking.

Turning her radio completely off, Talia began creeping out from her hiding place, approaching the edge of the roof. Bane's men were oblivious to her approach as they stood with their backs to her. The moment she reached the ledge, she leaped off of it, crossing over the alley that separated the two buildings. Despite the gravel on the next roof, she landed on it silently, not so much as drawing her targets' attention.

One then peeled off, sauntering off towards the other end of the roof, which just left one. Carefully, Talia creeped up behind the man, drawing out a small knife. The moment she was behind him, she stabbed the knife into the side of the guard's neck while clamping her other hand around his mouth. The man immediately cried out, his cry being muffled by her hand. His legs immediately went weak, gagging sounds coming from the man's mouth. No doubt his blood was pouring down his throat and making it even harder for him to breath. Slowly, she began to lower the man down until he laid on the ground. He was dead before his head settled on the roof.

Drawing her bloodied knife out, Talia promptly turned her attention to the second and last guard. Raising the dagger up by her head, she then threw it at the man, the knife sliding right between his shoulders the moment it reached him. This time, the guard managed to cry out, but it was short. Someone would have heard it, but they wouldn't arrive for some time. Walking towards the fallen man, the moment she reached him she grabbed the hilt of her knife and yanked it out. She then grabbed the man's hair and yanked his head up, all so that she could slit his throat to ensure he was dead.

Cleaning the knife on the man's clothes, she then sheathed the weapon before pulling out the radio again. Turning it on, she began turning around in a circle until she was able to identify which direction created the loudest sound. Finding it, she then took off.

* * *

The moment he said go, Batgirl attacked. Her cape whirled around her as she threw a bat-shaped shuriken, the projectile spinning through the air until it collided with Huntress' crossbow. The purple-clad woman yelped as her weapon was knocked out of her grasp, sending it thumbling to the roof.

As if that were a cue, the Network fanned out from their bunched formation, running towards the two vigilantes. In response, Batman charged towards them, meeting with Black Canary first. The blonde woman led with a vicious haymaker, one he was quick to block with his forearm. Undeterred, she began jabbing a barrage of punches, aiming low and high, which forced Batman's arms to dance in front of him, blocking each other every blow.

That was when Katana came streaking in, movement he caught out of the corner of his eye. The moment he finished successfully blocking another of Canary's punches, the vigilante shot the same arm up to his side, just in time for Katana's sword to collide with the triangle blades on his gauntlet.

Having enough of being on the defensive, Batman immediately pivoted on his feet, spinning around Katana while raising up his other arm, bending it at the elbow. As he completed his spin, he jabbed his elbow right for the back of Katana's head.

Unsurprisingly, the Asian woman ducked his blow, his elbow hitting only empty air. Fortunately, because of his move, he had placed Katana right between him and Black Canary, keeping the blonde from attacking him if only for a moment. However, the red-and-yellow-clad woman was quick to counter as she too began to spin on her heels while crouched, swinging her sword for his legs. As fast as he could, Batman leaped into the air, her sword slicing right beneath him.

However, he realized that Katana wasn't using her usual sword. Instead, she had two Japanese short swords, one in each hand. Though she had missed with her first one, his jump left him wide open as she began swinging her second one, angling upwards towards him.

That was when Batgirl darted in. Out of nowhere, she came flying through the air, one leg extended in front of her as she leaned backwards. Her flying kick slammed right into the side of Katana's head, snapping it to a side as spit flew out of her mouth. In one fluid movement, Batgirl sprang off of her opponent's head, spinning as she did so. As she drew her extended leg up to her body, she then lashed out with her other foot, landing a spinning kick to Black Canary's face, causing the woman to lift off the ground and go flying through the air. It was a short flight as the blonde vigilante hit the ground a short distance away.

As Batgirl began to land back on her feet, Batman caught sight of Huntress charging at her, leading with the end of her bow staff. Immediately, the Dark Knight leaped over the recovering form of Katana, reaching out with one hand to grab onto Huntress' staff. The moment he did, he forced it downward, pushing it until the end struck the roof, which incidentally stopped the purple-clad woman, her body seeming to bunch up against the opposite end of her staff.

Leaning away from the woman, it was Batman's turn to kick at someone, bringing up his leg closest to Huntress up and then kicking out with it. His foot slammed into her midsection, causing her to double-over as the air was knocked right out of her lungs. As he brought his leg down, he adjusted his grip on her staff with one hand while grabbing onto it with his other. He then yanked the staff right out of her hands, the Dark Knight once again pivoting on his feet as he spun around her. Swinging one end out the staff, he was successful with hitting the back of Huntress' head, her staff colliding with her skull. He had taken care to aim at a specific spot too, one he knew would knock the dark-haired woman out cold.

In this he was successful as Huntress let out a gasp before collapsing into a heap on the roof. That was one Network member down. The sound of a rocket going off caught his attention them, causing the dark-clad vigilante to jerk his head upward. He caught sight of Red Robin shooting up into the air, some kind of rocket firing from his feet. He had his cape spread out behind him, forming some sort of glider, which meant he was going to attempt to attack from the air.

As it turned out, this was only a distraction. Pain exploded in the side of Batman's face then, blunt and shocking, his face wincing from it as he jerked away. For a moment, his vision seemed jumbled, something he attributed to whatever had hit and shocked him. Alarms went off in his head and he immediately jerked up Huntress' staff in front of him.

That's when he heard something collide with the staff. By then, his vision was clearing up and he saw Nightwing standing in front of him, one of his electrified escrima pressed against the staff. His other escrima was swinging right for his head, which the vigilante countered by moving the bo staff in front of it, the escrima colliding with it.

Batman felt Nightwing was going to pummel him with escrima blows and would have continued to do so had Batgirl not rejoined the fray. Sliding in low, she held her legs apart and then scissored them together the moment Nightwing's legs were between them. This knocked his legs right out from under him, causing the young man to cry out as he was thrown backwards. However, he was quick to recover as he threw both of his escrima-holding hands above his head, catching himself as he went into a flip.

A whirring sound reached Batman's ears then and he knew exactly what was coming next. Adjusting his grip on the bo staff, he then jabbed one end up into the air, just in time to hit one of Red Robin's flying shuriken. With the same end, he swung it to one side and hit another, knocking it out of the air much like the first one. Eyes darting up into the air, he saw Red Robin soar high above. He was going to be a problem, of that he was sure of.

For now, the scrum he was in the middle of needed to be dealt with. Eyes darting from side to side, he started placing where the Network members were. Spoiler and Bluebird were towards the back, keeping out of the fighting, though they were ready to go at a moment's notice. Spoiler openly held multiple shuriken in her hands and was waiting for an opportunity to throw them. Bluebird had her taser rifle armed, though she had the barrel pointed up into the air. The number of bodies between him and her was keeping her at bay—a blessing for the moment. However, when fewer and fewer of her allies were still up, she'd become a problem.

That's when Manhunter darted into view, placing herself between the two younger vigilantes and him. She had her DEO-made staff up and was moving it to aim its blaster end at him and Batgirl. Adjusting his grip on the bo staff, Batman threw the weapon, sending it twirling towards the brunette woman. In response, Manhunter waited until the last second before flicking up the end of her staff. Her staff hit the spinning staff and knocked it up higher into the air.

Well, so much for that. Alarms then went off in Batman's head, causing him so spin around just in time to get both arms raised up, each one blocking a sword of Katana's. While she had tried a simultaneous strike, her right arm moved faster than her left, causing the sword strikes to hit one after the other by half a second.

The blades then shifted in the grooves between this triangle blades. The next thing he knew, Katana was leaping up into the air, using her swords to balance herself in midair so that she could maneuver until she was horizontal to the roof. This allowed her to swing a leg, landing a kick across his face, and forcing his head to snap to a side.

Because of this, his face looked in the direction that just so happened to put Green Arrow in his sights. The archer had an arrow notched and he was ready to fire. As Katana tumbled through the air to land on her feet, Green Arrow fired his bolt right for the vigilante's face.

Though his body was twisted in a very precarious pose, he continued to lean in that same direction, going so far as to stretch his neck as far as it could go to one side. That was all he could do and it fortunately allowed the arrow to race right over his shoulder, a cry of surprise sounding off behind the dark-clad man. It seemed Green Arrow had inadvertently forced one of his teammates away from attacking him.

Whipping back up, Batman then spun around just in time to see Nightwing leaning to one side, twisting his body so that his profile was to the vigilante. So that was who had cried out. Continuing to spin, Batman dropped low, extending a leg out so that he could kick Nightwing's legs out from under him. He was successful in this, causing the young man to collapse to the ground on his back.

Completing his spin, Batman then saw Batgirl going up against Manhunter. The two women had their hands on Manhunter's staff keeping it between the two of them. For an instant, it seemed like the two were trying to overwhelm the other, right until Batgirl suddenly leaned backwards, landing on the roof on her back. During her fall, she had brought her legs up and pressed her feet into Manhunter's stomach. The moment her back touched the gravel, she pushed off, sending Manhunter flipping over her, where she too landed on her back, only harder on the roof. Completing her roll, Batgirl ended up back on her feet, not too far away from the Dark Knight.

It was then he saw it. Black Canary was a short distance away, perhaps ten feet. However, Batman saw her bracing herself, sucking in as much air as she could. Normally she would have shouted a warning already—she usually did—but it seemed she wasn't giving anyone that luxury.

Quickly, Batman lunged towards Batgirl, shoot a hand out to shove her out of Canary's direct line of fire. The girl went stumbling away in response. A moment later and Canary unleashed her Canary Cry, the rush of wind slamming right into Batman coupled with the ear-piercing scream.

Batman squeezed his eyes shut even as he clamped his hands down on the sides of his head, dropping to one knee to better stabilize himself. Despite the dampeners in his cowl, his ears were still ringing and it seemed as if the Canary Cry was finding its way to rip his eardrums apart. Cracking an eye open, he looked up to see what looked like a tunnel of air sweeping all around him, leaving him right in the middle of it.

The last time he had seen such a display, he had been on the outside, watching as Black Canary screamed at Killer Croc. He suddenly felt a small bit of pity for the crocodile man for having to take the brunt of this. This time, however, he found he couldn't move, could barely breathe as the Canary Cry washed all over him. Of the other Network members, they were all clasping their hands over their ears, which thankfully kept them out of this.

There was a flash of black—Batgirl. She had her hands against her head as well, but she wasn't allowing the Canary Cry to keep her from acting. Moving behind Black Canary, she then leaped at her, moving her hands from her head at the very last moment. Hands shooting forward, she grabbed onto Black Canary's head, forcing her to look down even as she rammed her knee right at the base of her skull.

Black Canary's cry became even more shrill—and equally as unbearable. However, with her head pointing down, her Canary Cry blasted right into the roof, even as she fell face first towards it. The gravel was swept away in all directions, revealing the roof itself even as it instantly began to crack from the pressure.

The moment Black Canary's face hit the roof, a large section shattered into pieces, dropping both the blonde woman and Batgirl along with large chunks of debris down into the floor below.

* * *

The angstrom units .004 and .005 is a reference to the Tower of Babel. When the Justice League was trying to figure out how Ra's had scrambled the world's ability to read—and later on to speak and understand—Superman and Oracle discovered Ra's signal with that range. I figured that would also work for the Mad Hatter's mind control tech.


	32. Stop The Machine

The signal was at its strongest at this building. It appeared to be some sort of warehouse, though that facade was disguising a sinister nature. Make that a poor disguise considering the number of guards on top of the roof.

Talia turned off her radio and tossed it away. She had no more need of it and anyone that may stumble upon it wouldn't know why it was on top of a rooftop, nor what it was being used for.

Keeping out of sight as best she could, the dark-haired woman scaled down the building she was on. While she much rather cross over to her targeted warehouse, the gap between the two buildings was too great. There was a loading dock between them, so room had been made for large trucks to drive in. Reaching the ground, she then crossed over to the warehouse and quickly began climbing it.

If there was ever a time she was most vulnerable, it was now. All one of Bane's men had to do was look over the edge and see her. They would have the advantage of the higher ground and would just have to shoot her to end her threat. Yet, none of his men did so. It was a grave mistake on their part, one that she would take complete advantage of.

Reaching the ledge, Talia began to pull herself up, stopping as she immediately saw the back of one of the mercenaries. The man was holding his position, but for whatever reason he was looking towards the other side of the roof. Truly, how incompetent were these men?

In one swift motion, Talia launched herself upwards, delivering a sharp chop to the back of the man's neck. He didn't make so much as a gasp as he immediately began to collapse. However, Talia was quick to grab onto the back of his collar and pulled hard on it. This caused the mercenary to topple over backwards and ultimately go over the edge of the roof. Dropping downward to hang off the edge so that she wasn't hit by the man's dead weight, she watched long enough to see her target fall to the ground below, landing with a sickening wet thud. Blood spattered in all directions almost as soon as he had landed.

That was one guard down. Pulling herself up again, Talia hauled herself onto the roof. She was just getting her feet under her when she heard a shout. Whipping her head to one side, she saw one of Bane's men pointing at her even as he lifted his gun up to aim it at her.

Damn it, how had she not checked her surroundings before climbing up? That was an amatuer's mistake, not hers. Now she had successfully alerted the rest of the guards to her presence. And as if the shouting was a dead giveaway, the guard began firing his gun at her.

Immediately, Talia dove to a side, going into a roll even as she pulled out a throwing star from her belt. While she heard the sound of gunfire, she didn't hear the subsequent sounds of bullets blowing apart whatever they hit. That seemed odd to her, but she would worry about that later. Flinging her arm out, she sent the throwing star flying through the air until it collided with the guard's hand, knocking the weapon out of his grasp while one sharp end of the shuriken buried itself in the back of his hand.

As the man cried out in pain, Talia rapidly closed the distance between them. A knife drawn, the moment she was within striking distance, she thrust the knife forward, driving the blade right into his throat. That immediately stopped his scream as he gagged around the steel, hands reach up to grab at it.

Pulling it out, blood squirted out of the wound, the mercenary dropping to his knees as his hands clutched at his throat to stop the bleeding. He would not succeed. Turning her attention elsewhere, Talia sight of two more guards opening fire on her.

This time, she definitely noticed the lack of bullets pelting the area around her. In fact, she couldn't even feel the disruptions in the air from bullets passing by. Something wasn't right with this. However, it was proving to be a boon for her, so she would not question it for now.

Hefting up her knife, she sent it flying for one of the men, the knife burying itself in the forehead of one of the guards, dropping him immediately to the ground. Taking off running, she raced towards the other mercenary, who had a panicked look on his face. Swinging a fist at the last second, she slammed it in the man's face, feeling his nose break against her knuckles. With the man momentarily stunned, she then kicked out a leg, knocking her foe's legs out from underneath him and sending him falling to the ground. As the man fell, Talia knelt down with him, an arm held up. The moment he hit the roof, she struck with her raised hand, ramming it against his throat. Instantly, he gagged, eyes bulging before he passed out. The very act of breathing through a crushed windpipe was extremely painful and it was that pain that caused his brain to shutdown to protect itself.

Staying crouched, Talia looked around herself and found she was the only person left on the roof. Hmm, she had thought there were more here. Choosing not to worry about it, she then eyed one of the guns, fallen from the hands of the guards. Picking one up, she then pulled out the magazine to examine the bullets.

A frown appeared on her face. What was this? Blanks? Why were Bane's men firing blanks? That made no sense to her.

Tossing the harmless weapon away, Talia then began a closer inspection of the roof, searching for an entry point. One of the first things she spotted was a glass enclosure and a large one at that. That would be a backup in case she couldn't find anything else. Though her presence was already announced, she didn't want anyone else to know she was still active.

That's when she spotted a ventilation grate. Her Beloved had an affinity for these, using them to sneak into any place he pleased. If it worked for him, then it would work for her.

It took a minute or so to remove the grate, but she slithered through the ventilation system once she was in. It was slightly cramped, but she was small and thin enough that it hardly bothered her. Eventually, she found a grate, one that didn't give her much of a view other than the floor below.

Prying it off, Talia then exited the vent, landing silently on the floor. She was in a small room, one empty of people and things. It seemed Bane had little use for this room, which was alright by her.

Leaving the room, Talia found herself in a hallway, one she glided through, stopping at every door she found to peak inside, finding nothing of note. There was a suspicious lack of guards here, something that alarmed her greatly. Considering the number on the roof, there had to be more here.

Eventually, she reached a door that led to the main storeroom of the warehouse. It was here that Talia found herself stopping. At the far wall of the large room was a bizarre machine, itself nearly equaling the height of the wall. It was on if the sounds it was making were any indication; this had to be what was generating that sound.

Between her and the machine itself were stacks of crates, no doubt supplies for Bane's army. Immediately, she took cover behind a stack, keeping out of sight of any other guards. Peaking around it, she spotted one...no, two...three guards here. Again, why so few? If their training was anything, all three were facing the machine, not doing their job.

Maybe that was why there were so few.

Speed was of the essence. Her skills alone would allow her to take all three men with minimal difficulty; however, there were other ways to achieve her objective. Pulling out a gun, she took aim with it, and squeezed the trigger.

Instead of a bullet, a dart fired from the barrel, racing through the air until it hit the back of the neck of her target. Quickly, Talia aimed the dart gun at the second man and fired, repeating the same with the third. Her aim was true as each man took a dart to their necks, a cry of surprise come from the guards once they were hit.

Then they collapsed to the ground one by one. Shoving the dart gun back into its holster, Talia emerged from her hiding place. The poison in those darts would make sure those men were no longer threats, so she had little care for them. She sauntered up towards the machine then, emerging into a portion of the room that was free from the clutter of crates.

That's when she sensed it—another presence. Her senses were confirmed when she heard a voice say, "Down, down, the rabbit hole she goes. Time moves forward and backwards, side to side; she best be careful, or off goes her head."

Whipping around, Talia spotted a short man in a top hat standing right by a stack of crates, one of the last ones before the machine. It had been providing him cover, so she missed him upon her initial search. "Who are you?" she demanded.

"Just a fellow traveler in this Wonderland," the short man replied, his hands behind his back. "Have you come to marvel at my creation? Yes? No? Something in-between?"

And just who was this funny-looking man? Already Talia could tell there wasn't something right with him. That hat of his seemed to swallow up his head and the suit he wore was atrocious. His face was unshaven, looking as if he hadn't shaved in several days. If he had built this monstrosity of a machine, perhaps that was very well what had happened.

"Is this the machine broadcasting the strange signal?" she asked, knowing full well that it was. It didn't hurt to have confirmation.

"Why, yes it is, little lady. An impressive feat of engineering if I don't say so myself." The man seemed quite pleased with himself before something occurred to him. "Yet, you seem to be unaffected by its siren song. Is my clock two days late, or some other nastiness afoot?"

She had no reason to tell him of the earplugs in her ears. "It will take more than this to make me bow."

"Well, this is certainly unacceptable. If you would be a dear and allow this humble milliner to examine your brain, it would help further, if not improve, my machine."

Her brain? He wanted to look at it physically? "You must be mad!" Talia exclaimed.

"Mad as a Hatter, my dear." He suddenly drew a hand out from behind his back, a card with the numbers 10/6 on it held in his grasp. Suddenly, the card fanned out into several. "The Mad Hatter to be exact and now I must take a direct approach with you."

He then swung his arm out, throwing the cards at her. Immediately, Talia dove to a side, going into a roll as the cards flew through the air harmlessly. Ending up on her feet, the dark-haired woman looked to the Mad Hatter, only to find he had vanished. A quick glance from side to side showed he was nowhere in the clearing around the mind control machine, so he must have sought refuge among the crates. He would need to be dealt with before she took care of the machine.

Pulling out her gun, she held it at the ready as she slowly approached the stack of crates she had last seen the Hatter. Walking around it, she sought out any sign of—

Suddenly, she yanked her head back, bending over backwards as a crowbar swung for her head, hitting the side of the crate next to her. Before her stood the Mad Hatter, holding one end of the crowbar as his arms shook from the collision. As she leaned back up, beginning to point her gun, the mad man jerked his weapon back across his body, incidentally hitting the gun and knocking it out of her grasp. "I know how to fix you, deary!" he shouted at her as he took another swing at her, causing Talia to leap backwards to avoid the attack. "What you need is some jam! Now let me open you up so I can stuff you with it!"

Talia had no idea what this little man was talking about, but she was not about to let him get the upper hand on her. Waiting for the right moment, she backpedaled again to avoid another strike with the crowbar, allowing it to pass right in front of her. Instantly, she lunged forward, shooting her hands out to grab onto the Mad Hatter's arms, stopping him from swinging again.

She then bent an arm at the elbow and jerked it forward, her elbow ramming right into the man's face. This caused him to cry out as he stumbled. Pulling that same arm to her side, she then swung it back out, landing a backhand blow that sent the Hatter flying backwards, losing his grip on the crowbar and allowing it to clatter on the floor.

And...that seemed all it took. The Mad Hatter just laid on his back on the floor, not even so much as twitching. Seeing no need to further engage, Talia spun back around. It was time to—

She came to an immediate stop. Standing between her and the mind control machine was Bane himself. For such a large man, he seemed to know how to move about without attracting attention. How annoying.

"I've seen you before," Bane spoke then. "You are the woman at the side of Ra's al Ghul."

Talia straightened out her posture, glaring at the man. "I am."

"And I assume you are here to interfere with my plans."

"I am."

Bane snorted. "What an insult. Your master sends a woman up against me. If he intended to insult me, he has succeeded. Now I will return you to him broken."

He was underestimating her; let him. He was about to learn the hard way that Talia al Ghul was more than just a damsel. He would learn just how cruel she could be.

And then he would die choking on his own blood.

* * *

Batman wasn't sure when the screaming stopped. His ears kept ringing, even with the sound dampener built into his cowl. He needed to improve it at a later time; he hadn't expected Black Canary's Canary Cry to be so powerful.

He did, on the other hand, notice that both Canary and Batgirl had vanished from sight, disappearing into the hole in the roof created by the blonde vigilante's scream being directed at her feet. He badly wanted to be jumping down there after them, but even now he could feel his equilibrium was off. The body's balance centers were part and parcel with hearing, so he knew the why. Knowing though, didn't make any better.

The parent side of him was demanding to make sure Batgirl was okay. The fighter in him shut it down, but only just barely. He knew he was better off recovering before throwing himself headfirst into a bad situation. Batgirl could take care of herself. Though she wasn't at the same fighting capacity as she once been, she was making progress; he had to trust she would be okay.

He had to.

Unfortunately, the time he needed to regain his balance would not be forthcoming. Movement from the corner of his eyes told him the other vigilantes were on the move. An instant later and he saw Katana and Nightwing both leaping into the air, looking to drop in on the two women below.

It was one thing for Batgirl to be facing Black Canary on her own. He was reasonably certain she could handle that. Black Canary, Katana, and Nightwing, on the other hand, would be too much. He couldn't let her get overwhelmed by that.

Hand shooting to one of his back pouches on his belt, he pulled out his grapple gun and fired it towards the two leaping vigilantes. The grapple claw closed in on the closest target, which ended up being Nightwing's calf. It clamped down on the leg and the moment it did, Batman thrust a hand forward to grab onto the cable, then pulled back on it.

Immediately, Nightwing's leg was pulled backwards, yanking the man awkwardly through the air. As Katana descended into the hole, Batman began spinning himself around, swinging Nightwing through the air. The length of the cable created a wide circle, one that ended the moment Nightwing slammed right into the roof access. The young man collapsed to the ground a moment later, lying in an unconscious heap.

That was one less threat. With Black Canary and Katana down below, that left him...Manhunter, Red Robin, Green Arrow, and the two young Batclan girls. That would be difficult, but not impossible. It was only a matter of who would be first.

As that turned out, it was Red Robin. Swooping down through the air, he leaned backwards at the last moment, swinging a kick for his head. Ducking to a side, he allowed the young boy to soar over his head, landing somewhere behind him. The Dark Knight would've counterattacked him had he not caught sight of a flash of metal first. He immediately threw himself to a side, going into a roll as shuriken, courtesy of Spoiler, flew right by where he had been standing. The projectiles flew off of the roof, disappearing into the night.

By then, Red Robin had spun around and was back on the offensive. Still crouched, Batman held his ground as the former Batclan member threw a fist for his face, one he blocked relatively easily.

That was when something collided with the back of his head, causing stars to explode in front of his eyes. Head jerking forward, Batman winced from the unexpected blow, a gesture that costed him as Red Robin rammed a fist into the side of his face. Head snapping to a side, the vigilante committed to the unintentional flinch and again threw himself towards the ground, again rolling over it before coming up onto this feet.

This allowed him to position himself where he could see who was responsible for the blow to the back of his skull. As it turned out, it was Spoiler surprisingly as he saw one of her shuriken lying on the ground a short distance from where he had been kneeling previously. It wasn't there beforehand, so it must have been that projectile that hit his head. It seemed Red Robin and Spoiler were alternating attacks between the two of them, one to distract him so that the other could hit him. It wasn't a bad strategy at all, though it was annoying.

That just meant he had to turn the tables on them. Seeing Red Robin charging at him again, Batman shot up onto his feet, then slid to a side to avoid yet another punch. However, this put the young man right between him and Spoiler and already he could see the pink-clad girl hesitating, shuriken in hand.

As Red Robin pivoted on his feet to face him, his cape suddenly stiffened into its glider mode. Grabbing onto it, the youth then lunged at the older vigilante, swinging arm at him along with the stiff cape.

For a moment, Batman though it strange, right until slight gleamed right off the edge of the cape. Eyes widening, the Dark Knight backpedaled to dodge the swipe, getting a closer look at the edge of the stiff cape and seeing its sharp edge. The feather-like design was completely metal, its ends sharpened to a blade-like edge. That was a nasty surprise, one he questioned how he got a hold of. That could wait for later, however.

Undeterred, Red Robin then swung his other arm, slicing with his cape. Again, Batman darted backwards to avoid the attack. The youth then attempted again with his first arm; however, this time Batman countered. Lunging forward, he shot a hand out and grabbed onto the inner side of the young man's forearm, stopping his slashing cape. An instant later and he swung his leg up, ramming his knee right into Red Robin's stomach, causing him to bend over his knee as air was forced out of his lungs, leaving him gasping.

Releasing his hold on Red Robin's arm, Batman raised that hand up into the air, balling it into a fist. Bending the arm at the elbow, he then jerked it downward, slamming his elbow into the base of Red Robin's skull. There was a short, sharp cry before he felt the youth's body slump against him. Gliding to one side, the young man's unconscious body dropped onto the roof.

"Everyone! Stand back!" a voice shouted. Snapping his head to look for the source, Batman saw Bluebird aiming her taser rifle right at him. There was no time to move, no time to react as the blue-haired girl promptly fired her weapon.

* * *

Rubble was everywhere. There were still pieces of the ceiling breaking off from the edge of the hole and clattering on the floor.

At its center was Black Canary, the blonde woman lying face first on the floor. On top of her was Batgirl, a hand firmly pressed against the back of her skull. The rest of her body felt tender from what had just happened and she knew Canary had to be the same way.

At least, that that had been her first thought. As she slowly pushed herself up, she noticed the lack of movement from Black Canary. In fact, the younger girl had to say the mind-controlled woman was unconscious. That was unexpected, but she was not going to—

Alarms went off in her head. Immediately, Batgirl went into a roll, ending up on her feet a moment later. Just then, Katana landed right over Canary, her feet on either side of the unconscious woman. She had to twist her body so that she could face the younger vigilante, drawing her sword up so that it was at shoulder height, its tip pointed towards her. It was only one of her short swords, the other seeming to be missing.

And then Katana lunged at her, thrusting her sword tip. Batgirl darted to one side, staying low. That changed to her leaping backwards when Katana performed a side sweep with her sword, the blade passing right where her head would have been.

Suddenly, the red-and-yellow-clad woman used her momentum to her advantage, spinning in the same direction as her sword strike. She leaped off the ground and lashed out with a kick, one that would have hit Batgirl in the face had she not stepped back to avoid it. However, she was not blind to the fact this was only to keep her at bay so that Katana could launch another slash with her blade, the young girl seeing it coming a mile away.

While Batman would have used his triangle blades to block the slash, Batgirl ducked it, allowing the sword to pass over her head. Done with dodging, she then lunged forward, shooting her right forearm up just in time as Katana landed back on the floor and reversed her cut. Her forearm collided with the sword-wielder's, stopping her in mid-strike.

Fast as lighting, she threw a punch, landing it against Katana's face. Bending her extended arm, Batgirl followed up her punch with an elbow jab, one that also connected with her opponent's face. Katana stumbled a couple steps backwards, but not due to any daze. No, Batgirl could read her body and the woman was purposefully putting distance between them so she could recover and retaliate.

Batgirl wouldn't let her. With the same arm that had blocked Katana's previous attack, she dropped it to her belt and pulled out a batarang. Immediately, she threw it at her opponent; unfortunately, Katana had recovered by then and slashed at it with her sword, cutting it in half and sending the two pieces angling off in different directions.

That was disappointing, though not entirely unexpected. She needed to try harder than that to take this woman down. Focusing her eyes, she read her opponent's body, watching as it slid into a stance. Everything she read indicated a sword slash from the right, downward diagonal for her head.

Katana launched herself at the younger girl, her sword arching upward before slashing downward from the right. Batgirl immediately backpedaled, avoiding the strike and anticipated the next one, a side slash. The side slash came an instant later. Batgirl continued to back up, each attack Katana launching passing right in front of the girl.

And then Batgirl reached the wall behind her. Stopping, she suddenly ducked, allowing Katana's sword to swing over head and embedded itself in the sheetrock. Immediately, she countered, lashing out with a fist that slammed right into Katana's midsection, knocking the air right out of her lungs as she leaned forward from the blow.

A palm strike was sent next, ramming against Katana's chin, snapping her head backwards. Leaping up into the air, Batgirl completed her combo with a kick, spinning in the air as her foot collided with the side of her opponent's head. The force of the blow sent the woman flying off the floor and through the air, where she crashed into a wall. It was a solid hit, of that Batgirl was sure.

The two women landed on the floor at about the same time, Batgirl on her feet while Katana in a heap. More importantly, Katana didn't spring right back up. Staring, she examined her foe's body, studying it, trying to see if the other woman was playing possum. It soon became clear that Katana was truly down.

Batgirl felt good about that. She had heard that Katana was one of the better fighters in Gotham, so to be able to beat her was amazing. She had struggled in her last few fights, not something she cared to admit.

Suddenly, something hit the floor. Jerking her head, she spotted an arrow a short distance away, sticking out of the floor. She then looked upward to the hole in the ceiling. There was still fighting and she was needed.

Pulling out the grapple gun, she fired it to the hole, where the claw attached to the edge. Hitting the retraction button, she shot up into the air.

* * *

The electrical discharge fired from the gun's barrel. It zapped its way through the air, closing rapidly on the Dark Knight. There wasn't time to think, only react. His next move would determine if this was a knockout blow, or a damaging burn.

Pivoting to face the oncoming blast, Batman thrust both of his hands up, the palm of his right hand pressing up against the back of his left. An instant later, the electrical blast collided with his hand, stopping the cackling beam. Bolts of electricity danced down his arms, reaching as far as they could go as they tickled his shoulders. Surprisingly, there wasn't much force behind the beam, so the vigilante didn't find himself struggling nor being forced backwards.

A second went by and it seemed a new status quo had started. Batman resisted the sigh of relief that was threatening to escape his lips. It had been a gamble—a major gamble—but it seemed to have worked for now. The gauntlets he wore were insulated due to the electrical system built into them to transform his cape into a glider. Every precaution had been taken to ensure such a system didn't inadvertently break loose and shock him in mid-flight. That same insulation was now holding off the electrical discharge of Bluebird's taser rifle.

The ensuing light that flashed over and over from the beam played tricks with the surrounding shadows. For Batman, it was just one large flash, which was endlessly burning into the protective lens of his cowl. At his periphery, he could see the shadows dancing in and out of sight.

Despite this fortunate turn of events, however, he knew he was a sitting duck. All it took was one solid blow to his head and he would then take the brunt of Bluebird's attack. He needed to remove the taser rifle permanently, preferably with an unconscious Bluebird as well.

Slowly, he drew back his back hand, watching closely as to what would happen. Thankfully, his front hand was still handling the electrical blast, the bolts of discharged electricity decorating one arm instead of two. Quickly, he dropped his free hand to his belt and pulled out a shuriken. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the bat-shaped projectile arching widely through the air. Turning inward, if finally zoomed right in on its target.

There was a loud clash of metal striking metal and instantly the electrical blast stopped. Getting a view of Bluebird, Batman saw his shuriken sticking out of her taser rifle, one end piercing into the weapon. There were bolts of electricity leaking around the projectile, which caused Bluebird to stare at it in horror.

"It's gonna blow!" she shouted before she whipped around and chucked the weapon as far as she could throw it. It flew over the edge of the building, beginning to descend downward when it suddenly exploded into a large fireball, coupled with a thunderous roar. Faintly, Batman could hear the surprised cries of the mob below, the explosion frightening them.

Alright, that took care of one of the last remaining obstacles left. Right now, Manhunter and Green Arrow were the last remaining threats; that wasn't to say the younger Batclan members weren't, but they could be handled relatively easily when compared to the seasoned vigilantes.

As if on cue, an arrow came flying right at the Dark Knight, he had only a second to jerk his head to look at it, spotting a small canister attached the the shaft—one of Arrow's trick arrows. On instinct, he shot a hand up and caught the arrow, his hand wrapped around the front end of the canister. If this was one of those arrows that exploded into a net, his hand placement would prevent it.

As it turned out, a powerful electrical discharge zapped into his hand, traveling up his arm. Batman grunted as the strength of the initial discharge packed more power than the one he had blocked from Bluebird. That sensation went away as the seconds ticked away and the insulation in his gauntlet absorbed the discharge. Throwing his arm to a side, he tossed away the arrow and faced the Emerald Archer, who was pulling out another trick arrow.

No, make that two arrows. One was clearly a trick one due to the canister attachment while the other was a regular one. Notching both to the bowstring, he pulled back and fired them. They both flew close to each other, yet at a slowly widening angle. They were too close together to attempt going between them, so it forced him to pick which one to avoid completely and one he'd have to chance.

He chose neither. Diving headfirst, he went into a roll, going underneath the flying arrows. He cared very little for where they landed so long as they weren't a threat. Ending up back on his feet, he noticed Green Arrow wasn't drawing out another arrow.

That was his first warning, which directly preceded a war cry coming from his right. Twisting around while staying crouched, he saw Manhunter leaping through the air, holding her staff up as she swung it down for his head. Shooting his arms up, crossing them to form an X, he blocked the staff strike, feeling the weapon collided at the juncture between his crossed arms.

Immediately, the brunette pulled her staff back, only to arch high into the air and then bring it downwards. Angling the staff, she swung a side-sweep at him, one Batman blocked as well as he moved his arms to one side, one forearm taking the brunt of the blow while the hand of his other arm helped brace against the impact.

Before he allowed Manhunter another attack, Batman then launched himself upward, bending the arm he had used to brace his block at the elbow, leading with it. His elbow strike forced Manhunter to backpedal to avoid it, twirling her bo staff in front of her—and thus between them—to ward off the Dark Knight from launching another attack.

There was a moment of deja vu for the dark-clad vigilante. A similar tactic had been used earlier, where a close combat fighter would engage, then pull away, just in time for one of the long-range fighters to take a shot at him. No doubt Manhunter and Green Arrow were going to pull that same stunt. In fact, glancing to the archer, he saw the man with an arrow notched and ready to be fired.

Suddenly, something black shot out of the hole in the roof, flying high above the rooftop battlefield. The sudden movement caused everyone to jerk their heads up to look. Much to Batman's relief, he saw Batgirl seemingly hovering above them all, legs curled up beneath her and her cape swallowing her whole.

And then she threw open her cape and a barrage of bat-shaped shuriken came flying out in all directions. Batman didn't even have to move as they flew nowhere near him.

As for the remaining Network members, Green Arrow dove to a side even as he relaxed the tension in his bowstring, keeping his arrow from firing. Manhunter stepped backwards whirling her staff in a circle in front of her as multiple shuriken clashed against it.

Bluebird and Spoiler weren't so lucky. Both took shuriken to the heads, the girls crying out before they collapsed onto the roof, lying unconscious. A moment later and Batgirl landed close to Batman, her cape falling over her body.

A moment of relief he felt upon seeing the young girl was palpable, yet Batman had to force it back if only because they were still in a fight. Now it was a two-on-two—much more favorable. "You take on Arrow," he told his daughter, the Dark Knight fully facing Manhunter. "I'll handle this one."

Batgirl didn't verbally respond; she only raced forward, heading right for Green Arrow as he reset his footing so he could fire his notched arrow. Batman, in the meantime, waited on Manhunter, the brunette staring him down as she slowly held her staff as her side.

"If you think I'm just going to roll over for you, you're sadly mistaken," his opponent said to him, adjusting her grip on the staff. "I'm not someone you can step over."

Someone clearly had a chip on their shoulder. "Let's see you prove it," he goaded.

Manhunter reacted the way he expected her too. She lunged forward, jabbing the end of her staff at him. She went low for his stomach, which he leaped backwards to avoid. She pulled back her staff and jabbed it again, another shot for his abdomen. He twisted to a side to dodge this as well.

Once again pulling back, she changed targets and sent a shot for his head. He jerked his head to one side to avoid, then moving in in the opposite direction as she sent yet another jab.

However, this time he countered. As the staff passed by his head, he shot a hand up to grab it close to its end. His other hand latched on further down the staff, close to its middle. Using Manhunter's thrusting motion against her, he pulled the staff away from her, yanking it out of her grasp.

Spinning around as he twirled the staff in his hands, Batman came to a stop perhaps a couple steps away from his opponent, holding her staff at his side with both hands, an end pointed towards her. Due to his removal of her weapon, she was off-balance, leaning towards him with one leg forward, the other back.

Batman immediately took advantage, lunging forward as he jabbed the staff, its end colliding with the inner thigh of Manhunter's front leg. She winced from the blow, further thrown off-balance as her foot slid to a side, her back leg dropping down until the knee touched the roof to better steady herself.

Adjusting his grip on the staff, Batman pulled back the end he had used to hit Manhunter, even as he pushed forward the other side, stepping towards her to close the distance between them. The former back end of the staff nailed Manhunter against her face, leaving her stunned.

And then the dark-clad vigilante pulled back so he could get maximum velocity for his next strike. With the end he had thrusted with previous, he then swung it from one side of his body to the other, hitting Manhunter across the head and snapping it to one side. The force of the blow threw her to a side, sending her crashing to the ground, where she laid there unmoving.

One down, one last one to go. Immediately searching for Batgirl and Green Arrow, he caught the two of them engaged. Well, to be more precise, Green Arrow was backpedaling, keeping his bow in front of him as he used it to block every attack Batgirl threw his way. Every punch she threw, he would move the bow to intercept, the limbs taking the brunt of each hit. It was odd Batgirl would allow him to do so, but then it was keeping his total attention on her. She was stalling him, he realized.

Hefting up the staff, Batman held it at shoulder height, right before he threw it like a javelin at the Emerald Archer. His aim was true as the end of the staff rammed right into Green Arrow's back, causing him to cry out as he flinched from the blow.

Batgirl was immediately on him. With Arrow distracted, she went low, extending out a leg as she performed a leg sweep, knocking the green-clad man's feet out from underneath him. Thrown to a side as he began to fall, Green Arrow immediately reached out with on hand to catch himself on the ground. However, Batgirl continued to pivot where she crouched, spinning in a complete circle. At the last moment, she lashed out with a hand, timing it perfectly to land a backhand blow right to Arrow's face.

Wildly, the archer went flying through the air, hitting the ground. He didn't go too far considering he wasn't flying too far off the roof. The moment he collided with it, he bounced off of it, bouncing several feet before he finally came to a stop.

By then, Batman was running right for the blond man. Leaping into the air, he flew towards the man, landing right by him. An arm raised, Batman threw his fist down while simultaneously kneeling, slamming it right into Green Arrow's face. The force of the blow caused the archer's head to be bashed against the roof, sending a vicious tremor throughout his body right before he settled on the ground.

Batman stayed where he kneeled, making sure Green Arrow was down for the counter. Once he was satisfied, he stood up, never once pulling his eyes away from the archer.

Batgirl drew near then, catching his attention. "Are you alright?" she asked, looking at him expectantly.

"I'm fine," he grunted back.

That's when a different voice filtered into his ear. "_Batman, it's Oracle. I think I have a location for this strange signal."_

That caused the vigilante to perk up. Hand shooting up to press against the side of his head where his ear would be be, he responded, "What do you have?"

"_I have a large amount of power being used in a small sector of the Industrial Area. I don't have an exact location, but if Bane is behind this, then his men should be all over the area."_

Which would give them the precise location of Bane's mind-control signal. "We're on our way," he told Oracle before he cut off the signal. Pivoting on his feet, he marched towards the edge of the building, stopping when he noticed the brawl in the streets had largely dissipated. That caused the vigilante to frown until he remembered the fight with the Network. Between Bluebird's exploding taser rifle and Black Canary's Canary Cry, the gangbangers would've either scattered like cockroaches, or been incapacitated. It wasn't the way he figured all the fighting would be stopped, but he'd take it.

It was time to put an end to all of this.

* * *

Talia did not wait for Bane to attack. She promptly went on the offensive, charging at the masked man. Bane held his ground, not even bothering to assume a defensive stance.

She knew he was trying to toy with her. Bane had come from a culture that did not view women favorably. They were considered weak and defenseless—neither of which she was.

So she had no delusions when she threw a punch and it landed against the man's abdomen. She could feel his abdominal muscles through her knuckles and they were hard against her violent touch. Bane didn't so much as grunt from the blow.

Undeterred, Talia threw punch after punch at the same spot, feeling the man flexing those muscles to better withstand her onslaught. Surely there was discomfort, but it wasn't enough for Bane to attempt to swat her away.

This did not bother her. In fact, she wanted him to keep looking down on her, figuratively and literally. In turns of strength, he was most definitely her superior. However, she was trained and the more he thought she could not hurt him, the better.

There were other way to deal damage to the human body after all.

She stood before him, even as she continued to ram her fist into his midsection, the masked man towering over her. He even tilted his head to stare at her—good. Changing tactics, she suddenly threw an uppercut, one that hit him below his chin and snapped his head up. More importantly, this exposed his throat to her.

Immediately, she threw a punch for his neck; however, Bane suddenly decided to respond, one of his meaty hands appearing out of nowhere and catching her fist. "You hit hard," he complimented her as he lowered his head back down to look at her. Then he spoiled the compliment when he added, "For a woman. I assume this is all you have to offer me."

"You presume too much," Talia warned him. He may have been a wall of muscle, but he had structural weaknesses like any other man. It was time to exploit them. Lashing out with a leg, she swung a kick that hit the side of his knee, causing it to jerk to one side. Bane actually grunted as the joint buckled and he dropped to one knee.

With her free hand, Talia formed a palm strike and slammed it against the underside of Bane's forearm. Specifically, it was just below his elbow, right where a bundle of nerves lay. The moment she hit them, Bane's hand spasmed, releasing her other hand.

With her palm striking hand, she curled the fingers inward to form a fist, one she immediately swung out, delivering a backhand blow to the side of Bane's face. His head moved to a side, albeit not that far. Clearly she hadn't had the needed force for a much harder blow. She would correct this shortly. As her backhand arched widely out to her side, she used the circular momentum it generated to jump in the air, spinning as she did so. At the last second, she swung out her leg, the heel of her foot bashing against the same side of Bane's face she had previously hit. This time his head did snap to a side, Bane's body even leaning in the same direction.

And then the large man reacted. By the time Talia landed back on the ground, Bane had twisted back to face her and was even throwing a punch. Gracefully, she slide to one side, turning as Bane's arm raced right by her as his attack missed. She then wrapped her arms around his tree trunk-sized arm, pinning it on top of her shoulder. Grunting, she pulled as hard as she could, leveraging Bane's arm against her body. Though he was kneeling, concentrating his center of mass closer to the ground, Talia had timed her move perfectly. Incredibly, Bane lifted right off the floor and flipped, falling face first to the ground. Releasing her hold, Talia darted away to avoid having the rest of the man's body collapse on top of her.

For a couple moment's Bane laid where she had dropped him. He was not finished, Talia knew this instinctually. No one that could harm her Beloved as he had done would be taken down so easily.

Her expectations were met when Bane began to move, pushing himself up off the floor and back onto her feet. "You are better than I thought," he said as he slowly turned to face her. "Perhaps I should take you more seriously."

"Please do," she responded as she slipped into a stance. "It will not matter."

Bane did not respond, merely stared at her. For a moment, Talia thought she would have to strike again when the larger man suddenly lunged at her, throwing a punch for her head. The dark-haired woman darted backwards, avoiding the swinging fist. He immediately threw his other fist, this one swinging upwards—an uppercut. Again, she stepped back, leaning her head backwards as the uppercut flew up in front of her face, narrowly missing her.

And then she struck. Darting towards a side, she jabbed a fist right for underside of Bane's arm. Textbooks called it the axillary, but most people simply knew it as the armpit. It was an area of softer muscles, not to mention a pressure point and Bane found all of this out the moment her fist rammed into it, sending a jolt of pain through his ribs and lungs.

She saw the man's arm flinch from the blow, even heard him gasp; but then he swung his raised arm down and out, attempting a backhand that she avoided by ducking. Her duck allowed her body to coil on itself, perfect for springing upwards, which she did. Shooting her hands out, she grabbed onto the side of Bane's head and pulled it down, even as she raised up a leg, bending it. She slammed the man's face right into her knee, causing his head to jerk backwards from the blow.

Her hands then released the man's head, clamping down on his shoulders. Swinging her feet upwards, she flipped over the man, using him as a springboard to launch herself over him, landing several feet away behind him.

All the while, Bane appeared to stumble backwards. As she spun around to face him, Talia couldn't resist the sight of the masked man's unguarded back. Her hand found its way to the handle of her gun and she pulled it out, pointing it right at—

As it turned out, Bane's stumble was half-intentional, half-unintentional. Though she had caused him to lose his balance, Bane's next steps were made to close the distance between the two of them. By the time Talia drew her gun, the man spun around, swinging yet another backhand blow, one that slapped the gun out of her hand and sent it flying across the room.

Eyes widening, Talia jumped backwards, barely in time to dodge as Bane followed up with a punch, one that nearly grazed her chest. She could feel the pull of the wind generated by his swinging arm. However, Bane was not finished; he promptly lowered his shoulder and lunged forward, ramming right into the dark-haired woman and sent her flying backwards as she cried out.

The next thing Talia knew, her back crashed into the side of a crate, the wood splintering around her from the force of her impact. Wincing, she fought back the pain she felt throughout her back, gingerly pushing herself off of the broken box. A shadow suddenly moved over her, causing her closed eyes to snap open.

And there Bane was, a fist raised by his head and throwing it down at her an instant later. Talia immediately dove to a side, just before Bane's fist crushed the top of the crate, embedding it inside of the wooden box. Going into a roll, the daughter of the Demon ended up on her feet, facing the man as she stayed crouched, one leg coiled beneath her, the other stretched out to her side.

Undeterred, Bane raised his arm up, lifting the crate up into the air due to it surrounding his hand. Drawing it back, he then through his arm forward, his hand ripping out of the crate as it went flying right towards the dark-haired woman. Eyes widening, Talia jumped to a side, going into a run even as the crate struck the spot she had been standing at previously, wood shattering as the crate's contents scattered all over the floor. She didn't bother to see what it was, not when she could hear Bane's footsteps behind her, the man giving chase.

He was gaining on her, that much she could tell based off how loud his footsteps were becoming. Seeing as she was running to a stack of crates, an idea blossomed in her head. Closing in on the crates, at the last minute she leaped towards them, sticking a leg out, her foot colliding with the wooden side of one of the boxes.

Immediately, she pivoted until she was facing Bane; all the while, she curled her extended leg until it was bent beneath her. She knew her timing was perfect when she saw just how close the man was, coming even closer with every step he took.

Then she sprung off the crate, swinging a kick for Bane's face. Though she had timed everything perfectly, she hadn't counted on Bane countering her. Shooting his hands up, he caught her leg, which stopped her kick before it landed. Yanking on her leg, he then spun around, swinging her through the air before he released her, throwing her towards the other side of the room. Flipping wildly, Talia couldn't begin to straighten herself out before she crashed onto the floor, bouncing off of it multiple times before going into a roll until she finally came to a stop.

Damn it, she hadn't expected that. Grimacing, Talia began pushing herself off the floor. She should have gone for her gun the moment she saw him.

"You are skilled, woman," Bane called out to her, causing her to snap her head up to glare at him. He was casually strolling towards her, not the least bit fatigued. "But your skills are no match for me. You may entertain me for another minute or two, but the outcome will not change."

Talia dropped a hand to a pouch on her belt. Inside were poison-tipped throwing stars. She'd liked to see just how this man handled these.

Bane immediately saw she was up to something, coming to a stop. "Go ahead, woman. Give it your best shot."

They never had the opportunity to find out how their next exchange would go down. The sound of glass shattering echoed throughout the room, causing the two combatants to jerk their heads upwards. The glass enclosure on the ceiling had broken, the dark form of her Beloved falling to the floor, his cape spread out wide in all directions. Her Beloved landed on the floor between then, facing Bane as his cape fell about his body, shards of broken glass raining down around him.

For a moment, it seemed as if the world went still, her Beloved staring down Bane, and the masked man returning to look. Then it was broken when her Beloved spun around towards her and lunged at her, wrapping an arm around her surprised body.

A hand shot up above their heads, Talia realizing the man held a grapple gun. He immediately fired it up to the broken glass enclosure and the two were pulled up into the air. Talia did not resist, even wrapping her arms around her Beloved's shoulders. It was instinctual.

And yet, there was a part of her that was outraged. Her Beloved was rescuing her instead of stopping Bane's machine. They were failing their objective and she did not fail. They would speak about this very soon.

For now though, she would enjoy the embrace of her knight in dark armor.

* * *

It couldn't be.

As the costumed man escaped, rising up through the air with that cable and the Demon's Head's minion, Bane watched with hardened eyes. At first he was denying what he had seen, but he had studied the Batman before. He knew how he moved, how he behaved, everything.

What he had believed to be a fraud, that short minute of action had challenged that belief.

But it couldn't be! He had broken the Batman! Trogg had ventured out to finish him once and for all. This couldn't be the same man!

In his head, he could hear Cobblepot's words echoing, taunting him—no. He would not be baited like that. Even if what his being cried to do was give chase after the fleeing man and woman, Tetch's machine was more important. The mad man was already taken down, so it rested in his hands the safety of his gambit.

Beside, even if it was true, that the Batman had returned, somehow finding a means to either repair or compensate for his shattered spine, to stop him, the vigilante would have to come here. Bane was more than capable and ready to meet his old foe, and this time he would not hesitate in killing him.

Turning back to the towering machine, something caught the Santa Priscan's eye. There were several small, red, flashing lights, and closer inspection revealed them to be bat-shaped devices, ones the resembled the popularly called "batarangs." All had cleaved into the sides of the machine and remained there, doing only superficial damage and nothing to stop the machine itself.

Pitiful.

Yet...why were they making those lights and why were they—

Bane's eyes widened in realization.

"_Dios mio!_" he swore as the _bombs_ detonated. The explosions created a chain reaction that caused the massive mind control device to explode itself and engulf everything in fire.

As the force of the flames slammed into the masked man, Bane roared in fury and frustration as he was thrown back into obscurity.

* * *

To FlackAttack: It'll be a Batman focused story. AV and I aren't quite done with Gotham just yet.

To Birthday Boy: Not enough, be it snacks or sleep. She's a bit like Bruce in the way she'll neglect herself when it comes to the mission at hand. And Batman should have countermeasures even against the Network. It's having them available when he needs them that's the key.


	33. Helicopter Ambush

"Where are you going, Beloved?"

The demand was heated, a tone he hadn't heard Talia used towards him in a very long time. Slowing his pace, Batman turned his head around to look at the woman as she stormed up to him. "Bane is still alive and his machine is still active," she continued. "If you are to save your city, we must go back."

He turned his body to face his former flame, half-looking at her, half-looking at the warehouse they had just left. They were on the building next to it and he had been on his way to leave the area. After all, the situation was about to resolve itself any second now.

"Just wait," he told her calmly, which caused a puzzled look to crawl onto the dark-haired woman's face. Realizing he was looking past her, she spun around to look at Bane's warehouse.

As if on cue, a flash of light flooded out through the glass enclosure on its roof. Half a heartbeat passed and a thunderous roar rang out as fire blew out the boarded up windows and destroyed one of the walls. Cracks raced along the visible side of the building towards the opposite side, which was then followed by the wall crumbling apart. The roof began to cave on itself, the building collapsing from one side to the other. It slowed about halfway until only half of the building was standing and the other was a pile of rubble. The midway point between structure and ruin was slumped downwards, as if the destruction could continue at any moment, but was only taking a second to build up to it.

Talia watched this was astonishment, then whipped back around to face him. "How did you do that?"

"I set a few explosives on Bane's machine when I entered the building," he told her. "Which is why I got us out of there as soon as I could."

A small smile began to grow on her face. "You still never cease to amaze me, Beloved."

Her admiration was evident, something that caused a hint of excitement within the dark-clad man. Despite their time apart and the bombshell she left him in the Cave, she could still affect him. However, he needed to make sure Bane's latest plot was indeed over. "Oracle, report," he then said into his comm link.

The hacker responded immediately. "_The signal's gone, along with that power surge. I'm checking the city to see if there are any lingering effects."_

Good. "Let me know what you find out as soon as you have it."

"You have a new ally, I see," Talia commented as she coyly stepped towards him. She came to a stop in front of him, placing a probing hand on his chest. "Along with those Network people. You've changed how you've operated."

What sounded like normal conversation was anything but. He knew Talia was trying to fish information out of him. It was part and parcel of being apart of the Demon's Fang. As long as he didn't humor her attempt, it was all it would be. "Talia, there's—"

Before he could even tell her what he wanted to say, the booming sound of spinning helicopter blades reached his ears. Whipping his head around, Batman was just in time to see a helicopter shoot up from between a couple buildings. It hovered there in midair, plain for anyone to see just before it began to spin to one side, showing its entirely length to them.

Along with the .50 caliber machine gun attachment.

"Move!" Batman roared just before the giant machine gun began to fire. The bullets exploded at the edge of the roof, sending thin clouds of smoke rocketing up into the air. The shots rapidly closed on the two, causing them to take off running to a side out of the line of fire. There was an alleyway between them and the next building. Not even breaking stride, they ran as fast as they could and jumped the moment the reached the ledge, leaping over the alley and landing on the other building.

The gunfire stopped only for a moment. The helicopter began to spin and another torrent of bullets restarted, this time hitting the roof right behind them. Batman and Talia kept running even as the ground behind them was ripped apart by the high-powered gunfire.

That's when Talia split off from him, angling her run for the corner of the building. The moment she reached it, she leaped off, flying through the air before she descended downwards, disappearing from sight behind the next warehouse.

That was fine with Batman. That was one less person he had to worry about even as the destruction behind him was catching up. Seeing a water toward on the building ahead, he pulled out his grapple gun and fired it at the tower, the claw attaching a couple seconds later. Hitting the retraction button, he was pulled up into the air, flying towards the tower and putting some distance between him and the gunfire.

The moment he reached it, he slammed his feet onto the side and slipped around it, putting the elevated water tank between him and the helicopter. This didn't stop the aircraft from continuing its onslaught, however. The moment the large gun targeted the water tower, it began tearing it apart, bullets bursting out the side Batman was on all around him, water spraying out from the freshly-made holes.

Disconnecting his grapple, he dropped to the roof below, landing on his feet. He then ran underneath the tower, heading for the side of the building closest to the helicopter, jumping off of it and falling down to the ground below. This effectively removed him from the helicopter's sight and vice versa.

The moment he landed, he was on his comm link. "Zana, I'm in a little trouble here."

"_So I've noticed,"_ the magician responded drily. "_Any idea where it came from?"_

"None. Regardless, I need to bring it down."

There was a moment's pause. "_About that…"_

Just hearing her tone told the vigilante he wasn't going to like what he was about to hear. "What is it?" he questioned.

"_So you know how you're not with Batgirl, right?"_

* * *

She was on edge. The helicopter hadn't been expected. It had come out of nowhere and was now hovering over the area like a bird of death.

Batgirl stared as it rained high-powered bullets on a rooftop, crossing over it and another before destroying a water tower. She didn't have the best perch, but she managed to catch a figure running and moving. It was dark and it moved similar to Batman, so she could only assume it was him.

He needed help—her help—and he needed it _now_.

"_Tell me what's happening,"_ Zatanna spoke into her ear. Her voice had come so suddenly that it startled the girl.

"Batman is under attack," she responded quickly. "There's a helicopter and it's firing on him. He's on the move, but I don't know for how long he can last."

"_Oh, for God's sakes. Let me talk to him. He may think he can take on a helicopter and win, but he's in over his head."_

Didn't she know it. She could see the helicopter moving through the air and it was coming closer to her. "_Give me two shakes of a lamb's tail and I'll have this thing handled, no sweat."_

"There's no time," the young girl spoke. "I'll take care of this."

It was half a heartbeat before Zatanna exclaimed, "_What is in the water in Gotham?! Didn't you hear what I just said? If Batman can't handle this, then you can't. You'll_—"

"Batgirl, out," Batgirl cut her off as she turned off her comm link. Pulling out a grapple gun, she waited, keeping to the shadows as the helicopter drew closer. Once it was above her, she fired the grapple up at the aircraft. The grapple claw connected with one of the landing skids, latching onto it tightly. She was immediately pulled up into the air a moment later as the helicopter flew by. Hitting the retraction button, she shot up higher and higher, reaching the skid in seconds. She grabbed onto the skid the moment she could, quickly swinging a leg up to help pull herself onto it.

There, she had succeeded in getting up to the aircraft; now she had to board it and take out everyone inside. Getting both of her feet onto the skid, hands still holding tightly to the metal bar, Batgirl made sure she had her balance before she shot up and grabbed onto the door handle to the helicopter. She pulled as hard as she could and the door slid to one side.

She was greeted with the sight of two men. One was dressed much like Bane's mercenaries. The other was a thin, bald man with sunken eyes. If Batgirl wasn't mistaken, the second man fit the description of one of Bane's top men, Zombie. Both men stood next to the high-powered machine gun and were whipping around to face her.

Batgirl launched into action. Leaping into the aircraft, she landed right in front of the mercenary, shooting her hands out to either side of her before swinging them towards the man. The palm side of her hands slapped down on mercenary's ears, causing him to scream from the sharp pain he must have felt. Her hands immediately dropped down to grab onto his shirt pulling him towards her and down as she rammed her knee into his stomach, knocking the air out of his lungs and silencing him. She then shoved him to a side, confident he was, at a minimum, dazed.

There was a flash of metal and the young vigilante jerked back a step. The edge of a knife just barely missed scratching her face as it swung by, which immediately caused her to switch her attention to Zombie. The bald man had knives in both hands, one of which was extended across his body, indicating he had tried slashing her with it. He then performed a backswing, trying to cut her again.

Batgirl didn't move her feet, standing her ground. She did twist her upper body out of the way of the blade, dodging the attack again. Undeterred, Zombie swung his other knife at her, performing a front swing and backswing right after the other. Again, Batgirl dodged by turning and twisting, even ducking her body to avoid the knife strikes.

And then the bald man changed tactics and thrust one of his knives at her. In an instant, both of her hands shot up, her palms clapping together as they pressed on either side of the knife, pinning the weapon between her hands. With a sudden jerk, she snapped the blade at its base, leaving the blade in her hand and the handle in Zombie's.

For a moment, Zombie paused as he held his broken dagger up to his face, eyes blinking owlishly at the sight of it. "That was unexpected," he remarked dully.

Releasing the sharp piece of metal and allowing it to clatter in the bed of the helicopter, Batgirl immediately threw a punch, slamming it into the bald man's face. He cried out from the sudden blow, stumbling back a couple steps, only stopping himself as he shot a hand out to press against the wall of the aircraft to steady him.

Batgirl turned her body to keep the man in front of her the entire time. She even glided across the floor to stand before him, encouraging him to attack her. The moment Zombie felt he was stable, he did just that, slicing at her with his remaining knife.

It came nowhere near her if you discounted her arm. Stopping his swinging arm cold, she had shot her hand up and grabbed onto his wrist, holding onto it tightly. With a twist, she forced his hand and arm to move into an unnatural position, something that caused Zombie to cry out as he tried to move his body to relieve the strain he must have been feeling. His fingers spasmed, causing him to drop his knife to the floor, leaving him weaponless.

For someone that was supposed to be a top guy, this Zombie wasn't all that good of a fighter. He was reliant on his knives, she could see that the moment he attacked. It was time to stop toying with him. Raising up her free hand, forming a fist with it, she struck with it, slamming a punch into his face, which caused Zombie's head to snap to a side.

Immediately, she released her hold on his arm, dropping down as she spun on one foot, extending her leg out as she did so. Leg swinging through the air, she swept Zombie's legs out from underneath him, the awkward stance he held due to her blows causing him to lunge backwards, going into a flip before he collapsed onto the floor of the helicopter, his head towards her and his feet towards the front of the aircraft.

For a moment, Zombie laid there. Then he slowly began raising his head up. "What are you?" he groaned.

Batgirl had an answer for him. It came in the form of a fist, one she rammed into the back of his skull and smashed his face back down on the floor. His body flopped for a moment before he went limp.

There was a sound then, coming from behind. Spinning around, Batgirl found the mercenary was getting back onto his feet, scowling at her. He then yelled as he charged at her.

Easily, Batgirl slid to one side, dodging the lunging man. As he passed by her, she shot a hand out and pressed it against his back, pushing him so that he would stumble.

Unfortunately, she hadn't realized just how close to the front of the helicopter she was. The mercenary did stumble, but he went so far as to crash right into the windshield of the helicopter. The pilot cried out as the man collapsed onto the aircraft's console, causing sparks to fly out in all directions.

Suddenly, the helicopter lurched to one side. Her balance thrown off, Batgirl reached out to the first thing she could find to steady herself, that being the large machine gun turret. Around and around, the helicopter spun, the cockpit of the aircraft starting to blare with alarms and red light flashing over and over. The centrifugal force created from the spinning grew stronger and stronger with every rotation.

Looking towards the cockpit, Batgirl could see the ground coming closer and closer every time she saw it. Her stomach sank at the sight of it. The helicopter was going to crash with her and the three men aboard it.

This was not going to end well.

* * *

Batman noticed immediately when the helicopter began losing control. He had rushed towards it as fast as he could, even as it spun around over and over, falling to the ground below. He needed to get on that helicopter; he needed to get Batgirl off of it; he needed to do all of this _right now._

He was too late.

He was a block away when the aircraft fell out of sight. A thunderous explosion rang out as a giant fireball erupted into his view. Heart sinking and stomach dropping, Batman ran as fast as he could, arms pumping at his sides, legs pounding on the rooftops.

When he reached the edge, he froze. In the street was a blazing inferno, the remains of the helicopter lying there burning, a cloud of dark smoke raising up into the air.

"Dear God, no."

He didn't know what to do; didn't know where to start. No one could have survived the crash. Had Batman been in the right frame of mind, he would've searched the surrounding area in case anyone had managed to leap out of the copter at the last moment. He didn't though. He didn't want to say it out loud, or even think it. The numbness he felt kept him rooted to his spot.

Cassandra had been in that crash. The thought tore at his insides like a thousand blades ripping him apart, making sour bile well up in the back of his throat. Numbness turned cold, his stomach stopping its churning. He was lost again, the damn helicopter remains practically morphing into the still forms of his parents.

"_Batman, come in."_

He heard Zana's voice, but he didn't answer. He couldn't answer. The back of his throat felt dry, barren as a desert. He couldn't answer even if he wanted to.

"_Come in, Batman."_

If he talked, he would lose everything. His daughter, his control, his emotions—everything. Speaking made it real. There would be no denying it. And he wanted to refuse what was so blatantly obvious.

"_Answer me, Bruce."_

He squeezed his eyes shut. A sharp, stabbing pain ripped through his head at the mere mention of his name. It wasn't physical, so much as mental. His name made his loss that much more personal. It—

A hand grabbed his shoulder and he found himself spinning around. "Bruce, I got her," Zatanna said to him, the magician looking him dead in the eyes. "I've got her."

For a moment, those words didn't register. There was a part of him that demanded to know what the hell she was doing outside of the Cave. Those came a distant second even before he realized just what she was saying. He shot a hand out, grabbing onto the dark-haired woman's arm tightly. "Where is she," he demanded. That wasn't a question, only a statement. It didn't matter that his old friend was disobeying his wishes, that she had used a spell to transport herself into Gotham.

"I got her a couple blocks away and she's tying up Bane's men," Zana told him. "I'm going to teleport us over there, but you've got three seconds to compose yourself."

She said something else, but Batman didn't hear a single word. She was alright; Cassandra was alright. Relief didn't even begin to describe how he felt. It was just so overwhelming. And Zatanna was giving him a moment to get back into his Batman-mindset.

When this was all over, he really needed to thank her.

Releasing his hold, he took some deep breaths, regaining his self-control before he returned his attention to Zatanna. "Alright, I'm ready." He wasn't, as his fears and relief warred within him, but the sooner he laid eyes on his girl, the better he would feel. Fortunately, he had a good poker face.

A few backwards words and a cloud of smoke later and Batman found himself staring at a group of three men, all of them restrained, and Batgirl watching them closely. Immediately, Batman searched her for any injuries, seeing nothing that stood out. He glanced at the men, picking out Zombie in an instant before returning his sights to Batgirl. He strode over to her, coming to stand by her. In response, she looked up at him. In spite of the fearsome image she had created with the sowed-in mouth, she looked innocent and impressionable looking up at him.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

She gave him a sharp nod. "I am."

Even though he could see it, he was glad to hear it as well. "Good job," he murmured to her, right before he hardened his tone. "Don't ever do it again."

"We'll see," she said with mirth in her voice.

He was certain he had heard those words before and he didn't like then being thrown back at him. Regardless, he needed to assert himself over the scene. "Zatanna, why are you out of the Cave?" he questioned as he turned back to look at her.

"The signal was gone and I figured you all needed my help with the helicopter," she answered him.

"It never occurred to you there could be a backup system?"

"If there was one, it'd be turned on right now. I don't feel like serving Bane, so I think we're good," she countered, skepticism dripping from her tone. "Or would you prefer I didn't pull everyone out of that helicopter?"

The vigilante scowled. On the one hand, she was being too blase with the signal. Just because one hadn't been activated yet didn't mean it didn't exist. On the other hand, without her, all of the people on this rooftop would be dead.

"You couldn't have performed the spell in the Cave?" he retorted.

That gave Zatanna pause. "I could have," she acknowledged slowly. "Though I do need to have an idea of where I'm going if I teleport people. I don't think you would have liked me taking these men to your Batcave."

So there were limits to Zatanna's powers. He'd had to probe further at some other, more opportune, time. It was clear he was losing this debate in the face of the preferable results in front of him, so it was time to finish clean-up. "We'll need to turn these men in to the GCPD. We'll hold them, especially Zombie, for a little while until we determine the effects Bane's mind control signal. We can't hand them over if the police are still loyal to Bane."

"I'll see if I can't whip up a spell to reverse any lingering side-effects," Zatanna volunteered. "Does that just about cover everything?"

"No, there's one last thing we need to do." Batman turned away from the unconscious men and the two women he trusted most. "And hopefully, it'll resolve one last problem."

* * *

Smoke drifted away from the rubble, the area silent after the explosion that devastated the area.

A small portion of concrete and sheetrock began to tremble, heaving upwards slightly before breaking open and allowing a hulk of a man to emerge out of it. Muscles bulged from the exertion and heavy pants escaped from a mouth that was half revealed by a hole in the mask he wore.

Other than his tank top holding to his body by a single strap, large tears in his pants, and another segment of his mask that exposed shellacked hair, Bane didn't appear any worse from wear. Cuts and bruises littered his exposed body, but he was used to ignoring such trivial injuries. He barely felt them at all.

What he did feel was fury and frustration, both at levels that he never thought were possible. Those were limits that were exceeded as he took in the destruction around him, the last remains of his final gambit in ruins much like the building he had based it in.

With a snarl, he threw a punch into the rubble, shattering the piece of concrete he struck into a dozen pieces. That action was not enough as he released a long scream of wrath that was only swallowed by the silent city, as if mocking him.

It was all gone. Everything he had worked for, the men and equipment, even the ship, it was gone or destroyed. He was stranded in this foreign land and all he had to show for everything was a few city blocks. Even then, without his men to enforce his will, he would lose that as well. It was intolerable!

How? How had it come to this after everything? Gotham had been his for the taking, a ripe plum with its guardian broken and defeated...so how had he come back? How had all his efforts come to nothing? Why did this godforsaken city resist him at every turn?! Why, why, why?!

The only consolation was that the improvements he had Zombie make to his Venom feed had preserved the device so that it had taken no damage and remained fully operational. That included the tubing too, meaning his last remaining source of strength was intact. It was a very small consolation, but in the aftermath of this latest defeat, he was willing to accept this incredibly small silver lining.

This was not over. No, this was far from over, because once he set his sights on anything he desired, he did not rest until it was his. Gotham would be his, nothing else was acceptable. The first thing he needed to do was find safety then go over what resources he had left.

This fight was only beginning and it would have only one outcome.

Anyone who stood in his way, including the Batman, would be more than broken.

They would be dead.

Taking a step out of the remains of the building, he ignored the unconscious body of Jervis Tetch who had miraculously survived all the destruction, though a little worse for wear. Bane didn't have it in him to crush such a frail creature right now, especially if it didn't gain him anything.

With trudging footsteps, he left the ruins and stomped down the street, he too swallowed up into Gotham 's darkness.

* * *

To FlackAttack: It's actually both. The League and Society are part of Ra's organization, though he uses them for different purposes. Think smaller offshoots of the same organization. As for the explosives, Batman threw exploding batarangs at the machine as he was dropping in. It just went unnoticed due to Talia and Bane focusing on him. And it's still Batgirl right now.


	34. Vested Interest

"Despite the whole Bane zombie army thing, I think tonight turned out well," Zatanna said.

The GCPD was out in force, shoving in Bane's men into squad cars. Though they had called in the bust, Batman had wanted to make sure Bane's mind control hadn't completely taken hold of law enforcement. For the ones they had come across that were still under the signal's sway, a spell by Zatanna had woken them out of the mind control. For the ones that had a taste for excessive force, they were firmly beat down to ensure they wouldn't bring their murderous intent to the Industrial Area.

Currently, one of Gordon's supporters, Maggie Sawyer, was directing her fellow officers. She seemed a by-the-book type to Batman and someone not prone to rocking the boat. The fact she was in full command told him that the more vocal opposition had been removed, which allowed cooler heads to prevail.

If this Sawyer wanted to make a difference in this city, she was going to have to stop kowtowing. For once, Batman wished Bullock was down there. Though the police lieutenant and he were at odds, the vigilante could always count on the man to get things done.

"So now where to?" Zatanna asked him, interrupting his thoughts. "I think your police friends down there have everything well in hand. Is it back to the bunker, or your Batcave?"

"Neither," Batman responded. "There's one last thing that needs to be tied up ."

"And what is that, glorious leader?"

The vigilante didn't respond to the mocking tone. Instead he continued his vigil, waiting, knowing that their last piece of business would be coming to them sooner rather than later.

They didn't have to wait long. A sound wasn't made, but Batman could sense another presence on the roof. Without warning, he turned around and found Talia sauntering towards them, a welcoming smile on her face.

Beside him, he felt Zatanna stiffen at the sight of the other woman. It didn't take a detective to know the magician didn't like the other woman, but that was of little consequence. "I'm glad to see you are still in one piece, Beloved," Talia greeted him.

"Talia," he responded with acknowledging nod.

"Has Bane been found yet? I see your city's law enforcement are apprehending his men, but I have yet to see the leader taken in."

This time he shook his head. "Nothing yet."

That caused the kind look on her face to hardened. "Then it would be wise to assume he has left the area if he has not been found already."

"Bane was in the warehouse when it caved in. It's going to take some time to dig him up if he's still underneath the rubble," the dark-clad man pointed out.

"Naivety does not suit you, Beloved. You and I both know he is no ordinary man. It would not surprise me at all that he has already fled the scene. That means he is still out there and needs to be finished off. There's no better time than now to do that. He's most likely wounded from the explosion."

He knew what she was getting at; she meant kill him. "No, Talia. I'll handle Bane from here on out," he told her, taking a step towards her as he firmly put himself in front of her. "You need to get the Demon's Fang out of Gotham, sooner rather than later."

Talia was not taken back by his demand. "Beloved, you know better than anyone that my father commands the Demon's Fang, not I. It is only by his will where his Fangs go and no other's."

"But you hold sway with him. He will listen to you."

"Not as much as you would think." A coy look appeared on Talia's face as she raised a hand up, placing it on his chest. "Besides, there are other matters that hold my interest."

Batman narrowed his eyes. "What does that mean?"

"It has been many years, Beloved, and I am not one to allow important matters to languish longer than they must. You and I have a child and it is time that he knows his father. Regardless of whether my father leaves Gotham or not, Damian and I will be staying."

Batman wasn't sure how to feel about that. On the one hand, that meant there was going to be some semblance of Ra's within Gotham—maybe not the man directly, but his daughter would be here by proxy. No way would the Demon's Head leave his kin alone without protection, be it a small group of bodyguards, or a battalion of assassins. On the other hand, there was a child to be considered; that part, at least, Talia was right.

"You have much that needs to be finished," Talia continued. "And I am content to wait for you to see them to their end. For now I will leave you, but count on seeing Damian and me for the foreseeable future."

Talia then pulled away and took her leave, disappearing over the ledge of the building moments later.

"God, I hate that woman," Zatanna spat out the moment they were alone. Turning his attention to the magician, Batman found her openly scowling. "She's never going to stop with this entrapment bullshit, you know that."

"Let's head back to the Bunker," the Dark Knight chose to respond with instead. He eyed Batgirl for a moment, seeing nothing that would betray her feelings from the exchange with Talia. Her masked face was just as stoic as his—he wasn't sure if he liked that. "The others should be gathering there; it's time we brought this war to a close."

"Don't think we're not done talking about this, Bats," Zatanna warned him. "I'm giving you a pass for now, but we will be discussing this child issue very soon."

Oh, he had no doubt about that. If there was one thing Zana was, it was stubborn. He couldn't think about that stuff right now, though. They had just delivered a huge blow to Bane and he would not be taking it lying down. They needed to plan their next move and make sure it would be the last of this conflict.

* * *

The majority of the Network had encountered mind control only once, and that had been a time when a secret society had been trying to program ordinary people to become deadly assassins. None of them had ever been on the receiving part of it.

If memory served correctly, the poor people abducted and mind controlled hadn't remembered a single thing about the experience. That was a shame as the vigilantes did remember.

Even now, the memories of needing to serve Bane, to advance his agenda, and to remove any and all obstacles remained clear cut. It was...terrifying how they all had truly believed that helping Bane was the right thing to do.

Nightwing couldn't stop shuddering at that thought, even as he awkwardly reached back to rub his back, that part of his body still sore. It was safe to say that everyone here also remembered the beatdown from the Batman.

"Why does tonight suck?" Huntress moaned, slumped forward over the large meeting table, one arm wrapped protectively around his stomach while a hand pressed up against the back of her head. "There is not enough Advil for this."

Amen to that. Batman and Batgirl hadn't pulled their punches, not that Nightwing blamed them. Still, how was it those two weren't mind controlled and the rest of them were?

All around, the various crimefighters were tending to injuries stemming from that right, such as Black Canary treating some large patches of bruises on her torso and face while being gentle with her feet, and Bluebird holding an ice pack to the side of her head. All of them were hurt, but unlike North Gotham which had a touch of despair added to it, this was plain exhaustion.

"If I never see mind control again, it'll be too soon," Manhunter grumbled, a very prominent bruise darkening her jaw. "Why the hell was Bane messing with that stuff in the first place?"

It didn't need to be said that being able to control the minds of Gotham was the obvious answer. What did need to be said was the reasons why.

"I think he's really desperate now," Nightwing stated, his eyes looking around for a heating pad that he could use. Something to help soothe his straining muscles would be great right about now. "If things were going his way, why try to mind control everyone?"

"And now that it's gone, he'll be more desperate," Red Robin pointed out, his posture slumped into a position similar to Huntress'.

"And a desperate rat is capable of anything," Green Arrow pointed out, making a good show of not giving in to the soreness and exhaustion that the others were. It was damn impressive, truth be told. "More than anything, we need to be more careful because when anyone's backed into a corner and thinks they have nothing to lose, they'll fight twice as hard."

"Which means we'll have to cut him off before he finds a corner," Huntress stated, letting a groan slip out. "But first we gotta find him. That type of guy doesn't get taken out conveniently while you're knocked out. He's finally on the ropes; we need to take him down now."

"Oracle? Any word yet?" Nightwing spoke up suddenly, turning his attention to the center of the meeting table, the same spot where the computer hacker would transmit any information she had holographically.

There was a moment of silence before Oracle responded. "_I have him in my sights. He's still on the move. You guys sit tight until I find out where he's going._"

"We can't do that! We gotta hit him now!" Huntress argued.

"Are we in any shape right now? Let's not forget that we just took on Batman and his partner, and they both managed to beat us," Green Arrow cut in, crossing his arms over his chest. "We need to be smart and not rush into this."

"_Arrow's right_," Oracle agreed, giving unexpected support to the Star City native. "_Batman was recovering from a plane crash and fighting off Pamela Isley when Bane came for him. Let's not make the same mistake twice. Rushing in through the front is something we know does not work with Bane._"

"Then what do you suggest?" Manhunter demanded.

"_We let Bane think he's safe, let his guard down. Then go all in, everyone at the same time. Get Batman in on this too. We'll only have one shot and if he gets away again, there's no telling what he'll do next since he will literally have nothing. His army's beaten; his mind control scheme is out of commission; all he has left is himself and whatever hideout he has left. Take what little time you have left to rest up because we're going to use everything we have this time to end this._"

For a second, Nightwing had expected there to be some kind of disagreement, but when he spotted several nods from the group, he knew that they were all conceding to this plan. There was a lot of logic to it and they did need to recover from getting beat up by Batman. Plus, based on what she had slipped out, the vigilante guessed that Oracle had a means to contact the Bat.

Despite the soreness and aching in his back, he was beginning to feel a second wind coming over him. All the blood, sweat, tears, and sacrifices, it was all coming to this point. They had all gone through Gotham's gauntlet, faced with some of its worst monsters, and it was approaching the time to face off with the worst of them.

There could be no mess ups this time.

"Great, me without my taser." Nightwing glanced over to Bluebird, the teen leaning against a wall with her arms crossed. Her words were muttered so most of them hadn't heard her—but he had.

Getting up from his seat, wincing as he did so, he made his way over to his fellow Batclan member. "Looks like you're going to have to get along without it," he told her, keeping his voice low so it didn't appear like he was calling her out. The girl was looking up at him with blinking eyes, one hand tightening its grip on an ice pack that had been lowered. "Time to put the rest of your skills to the test. Either that, or you need to come up with some better toys."

The blue-haired girl snorted. "More toys sound like a good idea, fearless leader. Tell me, is Red Robin the only one allowed preferential treatment, or can anybody get in on that action?"

"Last I checked, the only one to ask was Red Robin, and it looks like he got all the sweet toys. Who knows? Try yourself and maybe some magic can happen." Yeah, he was psyching up the younger vigilante by getting her mind off of what they were about to do, and right now they all needed to get their heads in the game.

Once he was through with her, he'd move on to Spoiler, make sure the other member of the Batclan was ready for the upcoming fight. Once Oracle gave the word, they would be moving out.

This nightmare would be ending soon.

* * *

Blood dripped from the sword, spattering on the floor. Ra's gazed coolly at the rest of the room, the corpses of his dead men scattered about the floor like trash.

Ra's could no longer hear that strange sound and feel its numbing effects. Something had stopped it, though that did not slow down the number of his own men trying to kill him. That they all thought they could defeat him was laughable, especially after his recent submergence in the Lazarus Pit. Their years of experience were nothing in comparison with his centuries.

However, just staring at the carnage around him only reinforced an issue that had been slowly growing over the last few weeks. There was no such thing as an infinite resource; to be sure, impressions of such could be made, but there was always a limit. In this case, Ra's was running low on assassins.

Now, he was certain that his manpower was greater than Bane's—after all, his men were far better trained and had decimated Bane's ranks. Ra's even had more men to call upon from other corners of the world. Had the situation in Gotham remained a war between himself and Bane, he would have called in for reinforcements.

That's where the reemergence of the Detective complicated matters. Ever since his return, the number of threats against the Demon's Fang had dwindled, from the other psychotic murderers that festered within the city, to the assassins Bane had recruited, to the fumbling efforts of the vigilante element. The Demon's Fang had been handling all such obstacles in spite of the losses it was taking.

Yet, the Detective would not stand for his presence in Gotham. For now, he was focused on Bane, and should he defeat the Santa Priscan, he would then turn his attention onto him. With the Demon's Fang in its weakened state, even the Detective would be too much to combat.

It would seem a withdrawal was in order.

This was not the first time Ra's had experienced defeat. There had been many men that could claim such a feat. The list of those that had experienced multiple successes, however, could be counted on one hand. Napoleon had been such a man. Humanity lacked that caliber of man in this day and age, though.

Ra's had designs for this city, but those needed to be reevaluated. Gotham had been set up for his return long ago, but much of the infrastructure he had in place had been ruined. His Wonder Tower was no more, the Lazarus Pit beneath it was damaged, if not unusable going forward. His chance at taking control of this city seemed lost now.

A door opened and Ra's immediately pulled himself out of his thoughts. Striding into the room was Ubu, two assassins flanking him. "Master!" the manservant cried out as he prostrated himself before the Demon's Head, the assassins behind him doing the same. "Forgive us for our trespass."

So, even someone as loyal as Ubu had fallen sway to that sound. Ra's needed to learn more about this sound. It could prove useful. "I assume your loyalty to me had transferred to Bane?" he questioned.

Ubu seemed to shrink in on himself, his head hanging lower. "I am afraid that was so, Master. It was only a short time ago I regained my senses. Many of our men are reaffirming their allegiance to you, but there are others still affected by the madness."

Oh, yes, he really needed to investigate this matter. "Ubu, I want to learn more about the source of this madness." That will come in due time. Ra's turned away from his men, looking to the blood-stained window close by. Staring at into the city, he could not help but marvel at the defiance he saw from the city itself. "We will be leaving."

"At once, Master. I will see to new accommodations—"

Ra's immediately interrupted the manservant. "There is no need for that. My Fang will be leaving Gotham as soon as possible."

There was a heavy silence. "Are you certain of this, Master?"

"Indeed. Our opportunity to secure Gotham has been lost to us. This conflict with Bane has dragged out longer than it should have and now the Detective is reasserting himself. We are no longer in a position to dictate this city's future. Now, before you further damage your standing with me, begin preparations for our withdrawal."

"Your will be done, Master." There was a scrambling of feet and the door behind Ra's was slammed shut. This was acceptable as the ancient man wished for solitude. There were matters he needed to see to, such as contacting his daughter to inform her of their retreat. The same would need to be conveyed to Lady Shiva.

It would not be a clean break from this city, however. He had kept an eye on the Detective before and he would continue to do so. There was still a menace here that could challenge him—one that had bested him before. Ra's had once believed this conflict would only end with a duel between himself and Bane. Now though, he was coming to the belief that he was not part of this final battle.

"Go on, Detective: win back your city," he spoke aloud. "Show me that you have truly returned. I will be watching with vested interest."

* * *

The camp was in disarray, Eiling desperate to return some semblance of order to it. Gordon, on the other hand, had retreated back to the hotel he shared with Sarah, both to regroup and figure out what their next move was.

Had...had they really seen Bane like that? As a man to follow and obey, without thought or reason? Even though an hour had passed since such irrational thought had seemingly fallen onto everyone like a virus or something, the memory of it was still so clear. It wasn't some act or lucid nightmare that he could blame it on.

The Commissioner knew he was not alone with being disturbed. He could see that same look on Sarah's face that he knew was on his own. Once they had hidden themselves in their room, the two of them had spent the first several minutes soothing one another, trying to address this bizarre event with something that was familiar.

When they had come to a point where they could behave with some measure of control, then they had talked about the matter at hand.

"We're going to need a full scale investigation. We may have to call for outside help. I've never heard of anything like this happening before and we need to be sure that it's not going to happen again," he had told his wife.

"Are there any leads, hunches to go on?" Sarah had asked.

"Just a prime suspect: Bane."

It didn't escape either of them that their every thought had centered around the man that had plunged this city into chaos. All these months, the one thing that they had done was resist the criminal mastermind; the thought of joining him had never occurred to them, or anyone in the department.

The only question was how had Bane done it? Nothing in all his actions had pointed to him being capable of this insane incident.

After exhausting every idea the two of them could come up with, they had settled on what they were going to do next. Sarah would rally the officers still under their lead while he would check on Eiling and Guard and find out what they knew or were going to do next.

That brought him to this point as he left his room, following the hallway until he exited the building, coming out on the outer walkway and a railing barring his way from a second story jump. The warm night air made it almost impractical to continue wearing the trench coat he had wore without fail, and it would continue to do so as he didn't trust anyone in housekeeping.

Never did to be honest.

"Jim."

Gordon stilled for a moment before relaxing. "You have any idea on what happened?"

"Bane enlisted Jervis Tetch to build him a machine that would brainwash the entire city. The machine is out of commission and will not be repaired any time soon."

Oh, so that's what happened. Now that he thought about it, Jervis Tetch and mind control went hand in hand. How he was able to recall the man who called himself the Mad Hatter so quickly, he did not know, but he wasn't about to question it. In retrospect, the words mind control were the big giveaway.

"Is Tetch still with Bane?" he asked, training his eyes on the parking lot and the few spaces there were filled.

"Your men were able to pick up Tetch and anyone else that was there."

Gordon paused as he mulled that over. "There's one name I didn't hear. Is Bane still out there?"

"Not for long."

There was a slight change in the vigilante's tone. What it meant, the Commissioner didn't know, but if he had to guess, there was uncertainty there. Not that Gordon could blame him; Bane had beaten him severely and thrown him out into the streets, humiliating him with his failure.

There was going to be a round two, but it wasn't going to be an easy fight.

"There's something I need for you to do," Batman continued.

"What is it?" His posture straightened and he readied himself to hear what their next steps were going to be.

"We need to end the blockade. Supplies, manpower, and rebuilding efforts need to begin and as soon as possible. I need you to convince the Guard to lift it, preferably tonight."

Gordon had been waiting to hear those words for a while now. While he was thrilled to finally hear them, their timing gave him pause. He had noticed the slight difference in the vigilante's behavior and that was telling. Normally, he couldn't read him at all, at least not until he had vanished. There could only be one thing he could think of that would caused the vigilante to act this way.

"You're going after him tonight," Gordon stated, proud that the sudden excitement he felt hadn't leaked into his voice.

There was silence, one that seemed to stretch out longer than necessary, but ended with, "Yes."

Gordon exhaled loudly. "Be careful out there. If there is nothing else I've learned, do not underestimate Bane—again. I don't think you'll get a third chance to save the day."

There was no answer, but the Commissioner knew that Batman had heard and understood his meaning. In this world, second chances were rare, though not unheard of. Third chances, on the other hand, impossible.

What scared Gordon more was that if Bane came out on top this time, he wouldn't stop with injury and humiliation. That bastard would make sure that Batman would never challenged him again.

"I'll go talk with Eiling, see what I can do," Gordon said instead. That was all he needed to say; no "I'll try" or anything. At this point, there was no trying anymore. The impossible needed to be accomplished one way or another. "Make sure you give Bane one for me," he found himself adding as he began walking down the walkway, heading for the nearest set of stairs.

Again, he received no answer, but he could have sworn he heard movement, like someone leaving. Whether he heard anything or not, he had work to do. This time, he would have to pull some kind of miracle and convince the hard-headed Eiling to reverse current policy and end the government's stance on the city. Nothing too big.

For a moment, he wondered what it was he could possibly do. He may have been the police commissioner of the city, but when individuals high up in the country's military were involved, his ranking was incredibly low in comparison. He was a civilian trying to insert and assert himself into an operation in which he was suppose to have little knowledge of navigating through.

But he had done more with less before. Time and again he had found a way to help lead Gotham through its darkest times, and this time would be no different.

Straightening his shoulders, he quickened his pace as he went down the stairs rapidly and continued out of the hotel's parking lot. The Guard's encampment was only a couple blocks from here and that would give him time to work up some kind of approach and some arguments he could use.

Something empowering was in the air and Gordon was going to use all he could to perform one more miracle tonight.


	35. This Time I Break You

Eiling was in the command tent. Anyone with a pair of ears could figure that out. Unfortunately, there were a couple soldiers standing guard outside of the tent, blocking anyone from simply strolling in.

So, if Gordon couldn't get in—and he knew he wouldn't be allowed based off of the conversations he had with Eiling in the past—then he needed to draw the man out. That's where a pocket knife and his wife came in. Standing a good distance away, Gordon waited as Sarah disappeared from sight around the command tent.

It took a minute or so, but side by side, the tent began to collapse. Gordon could hear alarmed shouting just before the tent completely collapsed. Patiently, the white-haired man waited, even as Sarah slid up next to him, looking like a perfect angel.

"You would think they had better security around that tent," the redhead remarked as she watched her handiwork in play.

"You would," he agreed, just as Eiling came stumbling out from underneath the tent, along with that commando, Flag. Flag looked annoyed by the entire thing, which was in stark contrast to how livid Eiling was.

"What the hell is going on here?!" the general roared, glaring at anyone and anything that came within his sights. "I want to know who's responsible for this!"

Well, if Eiling was insisting…

Gordon began walking towards the irate general, pulling his hands out of the pockets of his trench coat. Sarah trailed behind him, matching him stride for stride. "Eiling!" he shouted, getting the man's attention as he whipped around to look at him. "We need to talk!"

A scowl appeared on Eiling's face. "I don't have time to play with you, Gordon. In case you haven't noticed, we have a situation here."

"Yeah, and that's why everyone was suddenly chanting Bane's name and swearing allegiance to him." Gordon came to a stop before the general, not the least bit fazed by the man's hostility. "I don't know how it happened, but I have a good idea who caused it."

"No shit, it was Bane. Now leave the area."

"And how did he pull that off?" Gordon pressed.

Eiling's scowl deepened before he blatantly turned away. "We're looking into it. Now—"

"So you don't know? I thought you were in control of this situation."

Instantly, Eiling was glaring at him again. "Hold your tongue, Commissioner. That's gross insubordination and I will not tolerate it!"

"How is that insubordination when I'm only pointing out facts?" the white-haired man countered. "I shouldn't have to review this, but I will. There's been multiple attacks on Gotham's infrastructure; Bane is still getting supplies from outside of the city, which is what that blockade of yours was supposed to prevent. Undoubtedly, there's rioting in the streets by now—"

"And how do you know all of this?" Eiling cut him off. "Do you know more about this situation than we do? How?"

Well, the man was right, but Gordon was not one to be bullied or intimidated. "I have eyes, General." He then threw a hand out, gesturing to the city across the river. "I can see the smoke every time something happens. I have men and women stuck in the city reporting to me as things happen."

"You do?!" Eiling stepped towards Gordon, shoving his face right in front of his. "Then you better tell me everything you know and tell me right now. That's an order."

While Gordon hated the phrasing, this was his best chance to do as Batman had instructed and get the blockade taken down. He'd swallow his pride if need be. "My officers are currently rounding up the last of Bane's men. They've even taken in one of his lieutenants. The only one unaccounted for is Bane himself, but they're closing—"

"I want confirmation on this," Eiling said as he spun around, directing his attention to Flag. "I want someone in Gotham within the hour to—"

"Hey!" Gordon shouted, interrupting the general. "I just told you everything you needed to know! You don't need any more confirmation than that! Now isn't it about time you shut down this blockade of yours and start letting—"

Eiling suddenly shot a hand out, grabbing Gordon by the collar of his coat, jerking him towards him. "No one moves without _my_ say-so. Mine, not yours. I'm a four-star general in the U.S. Military; who are you? Just some police commissioner in a hellhole of a city. Now stay out of my way while I handle the mess you made."

Gordon stared flabbergasted at the man before his anger got the best of him. "My mess? I'm not the one that sealed off an entire city just to starve out one man! Which, I'll remind you, isn't working! Bane is still getting supplied in spite of your best efforts. Hell, you don't even have people in the city to get you on-ground intel. _I_ have more up-to-date intel than you do!"

"Watch your tongue, Gordon," Eiling growled at him. "You're on thin ice."

"Feel free to tell me where I'm wrong," Gordon shot back defiantly. "The fact that you haven't tells me exactly where the National Guard stands."

Gordon was pretty certain Eiling would've struck him. In fact, the man was drawing a fist back when a sharp whistle suddenly rang out, causing both men—in fact, everyone in the area—to look for who made it.

The first person Gordon found was a short, plump woman. She was easily a foot, foot and a half shorter than him; yet, she carried herself as if she stood over mountains. African-American, dressed in a fashionable pantsuit, she strode as far as her short legs allowed her until she came to stand before the two men. "Gentlemen," she greeted them coolly. "What seems to be the problem?"

"This is none of your business, Waller," Eiling immediately said, a noticeable change in his tone. Where he had been brisk and rambunctious with him, he actually sounded respectful to this woman. That immediately caught Gordon's attention. "I'm handling everything here."

"It doesn't appear you are," this Waller woman responded, then turned her attention to Gordon. "You are Gotham's Police Commissioner, correct?"

Gordon pulled himself out of Eiling's grip, smoothing out his coat as he pulled down on it. "That's correct, ma'am," he replied. "And you are?"

"Amanda Waller, special liaison to the Governor's Office," she introduced herself.

Right there, Gordon knew she was lying. The fact that Eiling dropped his bulldog behavior in front of her said a lot more than the words either of them had actually said.

"I understand you wish to end the blockade," Amanda Waller continued.

Gordon nodded. "I do."

"And why is that?"

"I think it's safe to assume you've heard my conversation with the four-star general here." At this, Gordon jerked his head in Eiling's direction, which caused the man to direct a glare at him.

Waller nodded. "You said something about having on-ground intel. Tell me everything."

"The officers I have in the city are rounding up the last of Bane's men. They're slowly getting Gotham back under their control. We have to help them. They're tired, hungry, fatigued, and need reinforcements. If there is any time to go in and secure the city, it's now."

"Bane is still on the loose," Eiling pointed out, stepping up beside Gordon. "Until we have him in custody, or dead, it'd be a bad idea to take down the blockade."

"According to my men, Bane is on his own. He's effectively cut off not only from his men, but his supply lines, the ones the blockade were meant to stop, but haven't," Gordon countered.

"And you have people who can verify this?" Waller immediately questioned, stopping whatever retort the general had coming.

"I do."

Waller turned her attention to Eiling. "Do you have anyone on-ground in Gotham right now?"

The general's face soured at the question. "Not at this time, no."

"Then I see no reason to keep the blockade. Order your ships to stand down and begin ferrying in personnel into Gotham. I want construction crews to begin rebuilding the bridges immediately."

"You can't be serious!" Eiling exclaimed.

"You have your orders," Waller instantly replied. "I expect you to complete them as given. You're dismissed."

Eiling gaped at the woman before he gave a stiff nod and trudged off. Curiously, Flag didn't follow him, instead keeping his ground nearby.

"I've heard good things about you, Commissioner Gordon," Waller then said to the older man. "I see they don't do you justice."

"Thank you, ma'am. If it's not too much trouble, I'd like to be on the first boat into Gotham."

A small smile appeared on Waller's face, though it looked strange. It was as if she never smiled, so the act itself was foreign to her. "I believe we can have that arranged. Continue your good work, Commissioner."

Without waiting for a response, Waller turned around and walked away. This time, Flag moved, following behind the woman. Gordon watched this, narrowing his eyes. There was more going on than met the eye, of this he was sure of. The next time he met with Batman, he'd let him know.

In the meantime, he had a city to save.

* * *

It was the last place that Bane still had under his control, though control was a loose term to use. It was a construction site, one in which the lower levels were a skeleton of concrete pillars and walls, some sheetrock being applied on certain floors. Only the upper levels bore the typical steel I-beams and construction equipment.

Bane was currently resting, if you could call it that, on a floor that was in-between the lower, completed floors and the upper, under-construction floors. Grays surrounded him and the Spartan furniture that his men had placed to give themselves some comfort when stationed here. For now, it was just the Santa Priscan man who held in his hand a metal lockbox that was no bigger than your standard first aid kit.

Unlike those kits, this held some of the last of his Venom stores. He was on his last legs with the steroid, and on that front he knew he was in trouble. Once he had used this up, it would be over. That only served to increased his frustration.

Yet, he needed to do what he needed to do, and that was replenish the Venom in his feed device. Opening the box, it plucked out one of the small canisters. Holding it between his index finger and thumb, he worked open his Venom pump, the top of the device opening up a thin cover and revealing a port under it. Planting one end of the canister into the port, he emptied its contents until the pump was full. Putting the canister back into the lock box, he closed the feed and secured it.

With that finished, he rose up from his seat, placing the lock box on the chair he had vacated. With heavy steps, he approached what was suppose to be a window, its glass absent due to not being installed yet. A plastic tarp covered it up, and with a large hand, he lifted it up so he could get a better look at the city beyond.

His body gave some protest, but he ignored it. He had treated some of the worst injuries he had sustained from the destruction of Tetch's machine, but had ignored his clothing. There was no point in maintaining appearances right now, especially since he was alone. Whatever men he still had were apprehended, the majority of his weapons were destroyed or seized, and everything he had in his possession was reduced to this one location.

How? How had it come down this? Gotham had been his for the taking—_his_! It should have been his latest conquest, firmly in his grasp. He should have been planning his next move, where he would be going next, not cataloging what little he had left to mount a counterattack that he was unsure would work.

Of course it would work, he was Bane. Nothing was impossible for a man like him.

The first thing he needed to do was figure out why the hell Cobblepot would send him blanks instead of live ammunition. He wasn't surprised that the bird-themed insect would have his own agenda, but that the accented gnat would _dare_ to undermine him in such a way…

There was going to be a talk, followed by Cobblepot's screams as he broke the man in half. No one double-crossed Bane and lived to tell the tale. He could hear that bastard in his head, laughing at the little, foreign Santa Priscan man who thought he could take over Gotham. He didn't think, he _knew_ he would, and mockery would not be acceptable.

Despite the state of his body, he felt it tense up without warning. His eyes were drawn up to the sky, and behind his mask his lips curled into a snarl. Once again, hovering over the city itself was that symbol. Barely an instant ago it had appeared once more, like it had a few nights ago without warning. Here it was, again, mocking him.

Bane recalled how the man that he himself had broken over his knee descended from the ceiling and snatched the al Ghul woman. Even now, hours later, it made no sense because no one recovered from such an injury like that. Every time the Santa Priscan had forced a spine against his leg, he could feel the vertebrae shatter under his might. Every one was different and unique; and the screams that occurred simultaneously music to his ears with a different pitch and tone.

He could still recall the scream the Batman had made that night all those months ago. That was not a scream that was faked; it rang true then as it did in his head now. Even if the assassin normally finished off all those he had broken in the past, this time he had allowed his target to live, fully believing that the overwhelming failure was so humiliating to such a man that the Batman would never voluntarily return.

Tonight, all of that was challenged. There was no telling how long the Batman had been back in action, or how long he had been orchestrating resistance. All sorts of possibilities emerged, including the serendipitous arrival of Ra's al Ghul; nothing was off limits. More importantly, how had he managed to regain any functions in his legs? That confused and angered him even more.

Seeing that symbol in the night sky again only increased his rage and frustration even more.

Clenching a fist, he brought it up and swung it to a side, hitting it against the inside of the rectangular-shaped window frame. A spider's web of cracks formed around the site of impact, and while his hand protested against such an action, Bane ignored the pain.

This continuous insult would _not_ be allowed. If he recalled correctly, that source of that damn light was at the police department, specifically the central hub of all of Gotham's precincts. That would be the same place his men would be held.

A sense of deja vu occurred to him; attacking the GCPD to liberate his men had been an action he had taken early in this conflict. His salvation lied in doing the same thing once more. Well, he would, and while the masked man was at it, he would tear the source of that light and break it too, much like he had done to the Dark Knight before it.

No more insults, no more setbacks, this conquest would end in his victory, one way or another.

Bane didn't care how many more backs he would have to break to do it.

Turning away from the window, Bane stormed to another area of the hideout. Though he cared little for current outfit, if he was going to engage in combat once again, he was going to look his best. A new mask, intact pants would suffice. He had no need for a shirt.

He could feel his hands curl into tight fists. Before this night was over, he would be painted in red.

He guaranteed it.

* * *

With sparks exploding into the air, the lever was pulled and the spotlight came on. High into the air, the Bat Signal lit up over Gotham. After all of this time, it was a sight for sore eyes.

Huntress stared up at the symbol, admiring it before she looked to its source. On a building—a partially-completed construction site to be exact—was the skylight itself. Next to it stood Batman, the man himself looking up to the sky as well.

The purple-clad woman wasn't sure how he had gotten a replica of the Bat Signal set up, not in the time it had taken from Oracle alerting the Network to meet up with the Dark Knight here. Last she had checked, the original was still on top of the GCPD. In fact, she was pretty certain that magician friend of his had conjured it up. It was the only logical conclusion.

There were several buildings that surrounded the construction site and each one had a member of the Network stationed on it. These would be some of the best seats in the house for what was about to happen. A glance to her left and she could pick out Black Canary standing by the ledge of the building she was on, one leg resting on top of the brick and cement structure that made for a makeshift railing while the other was firmly planted on the roof. To her right, Bluebird was kneeling behind a gargoyle, using it for cover.

As for the construction site itself, it was several stories tall, all of the floors below the Bat Signal boarded up and papered. Oddly enough, what Huntress would have considered a roof wasn't completely accurate. There was a roof access that was behind Batman, a wide open expanse in which the vigilante stood along with his spotlight. However, half of the supposed roof had a skeleton framework of I-beams that rose a good four, maybe five stories higher and covered about half of the level the Bat stood on. Huntress wasn't sure what the point of it was, but the architect must have had a reason.

"_So, anyone mind telling me why Bats is shining his signal up into the sky?" _Green Arrow asked over the comm link. "_I'm sure this is stirring the locals, but it's my understanding this causes criminals to scurry to their homes."_

"_It's to draw out Bane,"_ Nightwing answered him. "_Think of it like an invitation_—_when Bane sees it, he'll want to investigate. No way will he allow someone to flash the Bat Symbol up into the sky and let people think the Batman's returned."_

"_I guess,"_ was the archer's dubious response. "_Pardon me if I say I'll believe it when I see it."_

"Can it, Arrow," Huntress said then. "Regardless of the reason, we're all just spectators here. Hell, most of us are still sore from earlier, so we have no choice. Batman wants to face Bane on his own, so he'll get his wish."

"_And if Bane tries to break him again?"_

"_Then I'll stop him."_ That was a new voice, cold and angry. Huntress could only assume that was Batgirl, not that she blamed the girl for being so feral. She hadn't heard that tone from the girl before and it was a little chilling to say the least.

"_She means we. _We _will stop him."_ And there was Zatanna. Huntress silently agreed with that assertion too. They had already seen Gotham spiral out of control without the Batman present; no way would she allow it to continue to do so. Even if she had to put an arrow right between Bane's eyes, she'd do it. Her body would protest her every effort to fight, but this was it. All of their hard word, all of their sacrifices, it all came to this.

"_He can win this, right?"_ Spoiler asked then, sounding uncertain. "_He can beat Bane?"_

"We're about to find out," Huntress muttered, though she did so off the comms. No point in being a Debbie-downer now.

"_Of course he'll win."_ That was Red Robin, a well of positivity. "_He's Batman. He's never let us down before."_

"_And we'll be finding out very soon,"_ Manhunter said then. "_I've just spotted Bane and he's coming in hot and fast."_

Huntress shifted on her perch, glancing back down to Batman as he stood there, strong and able. It was showdown time.

* * *

The chattering was going on long enough. Of course, Batman expected to hear the Network discuss what was going to happen. It was human nature to speculate. However, hearing all of those different voices was distracting and he didn't need to hear five different people shouting into his ear.

So he switched frequencies on the comm link. "Oracle," he said.

The computer hacker responded a second later. "_What can I do, Batman?"_

"I'm switching frequencies. You'll be my middleman between me and the others. The last thing I need is for them to ask if I need help every time I take a punch."

"_Understood."_ There was a moment's pause. "_Are you sure about this? I mean, wouldn't Zatanna, or Batgirl be a better choice?"_

"Neither one of them has a computer in front of them like you do. You can access things they can't at a moment's notice. You can also funnel any communications."

"_As long as you're sure about this. You are at a construction site, so I'm kinda limited to how I can help you."_

Batman tilted his head to a side, so that he could glance at the roof access from the corner of his eye. He could see a security camera extending out from the small structure, aimed across the rooftop. He was right in view of it. "Believe me, I'll let you know when I need you."

Turning off the comm link, he looked up into the sky, eyeing the symbol. There was something refreshing about seeing it, nostalgic even. It was as if it were welcoming him back. How long that welcome was for would be determined within the hour.

There was a loud bang then and Batman didn't bother turning to look. There was only one thing it could be. Soon, he heard a crash, the result of the door to the roof access being kicked off and sent crashing to the ground.

At this, he turned to regard the damage, seeing exactly what he expected. Several few away from the roof access was the door, a large indentation in the middle of it, one that was reminiscent of a footprint. Continuing to turn, he stopped with his profile to the newcomer to the roof, head facing the gaping opening.

There stood Bane, his fists dangling at his sides. There were bandages scattered about his body, not completely covering his wounds. The large man still had some cuts and burns that were exposed, ones that were minor—thus nonthreatening. Bane did not wear his leotard top, seeming content with his pants and gloves. Much like their first encounter at Gotham General, Bane loomed imposingly.

"You came back," the masked man spoke, taking a step towards the vigilante. "How is this possible? I broke you."

"I wasn't about to let you take my city, Bane," he returned, turning to face the man.

There was a silence as Bane stilled. "It's been you all this time, hasn't it? All of the resistance that has prevented me from assuming control—that was your doing. You pushed the police department to action; you organized your lesser fighters to team up; you even sent in Ra's al Ghul and his assassins to oppose me."

Well, he really couldn't take credit for any of that. However, if Bane thought that was why he hadn't conquered Gotham, then he wasn't going to burst his bubble. "You even turned that sniveling Cobblepot against me," he continued.

"You discovered the blanks."

"Oh, yes I have. And I promise you that little man will experience true pain as I crush his skull between my hands."

"You'll have to go through me first," Batman countered. "Though I think you'll find Cobblepot just as confused as you are. He hasn't had the manpower to check every single crate he sends for and he's never been one to thoroughly inspect his products, even when they were changed before they arrived in the city."

Bane was silent again, his hands tightening. "It was you who substituted the blanks," he growled then. He took another step. "You dare?!"

"I dare. You're spoiling for a fight, Bane. Anyone can see it. So how about you put up, or shut up. Use your Venom while you still have the chance."

This time, Bane raised his hands up and began popping his knuckles, the cracking sounds reaching the dark-clad man's ears. "Big words for such a small man. I don't believe I'll be needing the Venom this time. At first, I wanted to prove that no matter what you do, you could never defeat me. Now, it would be a waste of effort and Venom to beat you now. Know this: I will defeat you once again; however, this time I will not only break you—I will kill you."

Batman scowled as he shook his head, moving to stand between the spotlight and Bane. "No, Bane, this time I break you."

* * *

To FlackAttack: Not exactly the phone call you thought, but it led to the same result


	36. The Final Showdown

Much like the first time, it was Bane that charged first. He took even, measured steps, each one bringing the hulk closer and closer to Batman. The dark-clad man held his ground, watching his foe close the distance between them.

The moment Bane drew his right fist back and threw it, Batman darted to the left. Bane's fist slammed into the side of the spotlight, leaving a large dent in it as the sound of crumpling metal rang out.

Batman knew what was coming next and wasn't disappointed. Without hesitation, Bane swung his extended arm outward, attempting a backhand blow that Batman dodged, stepping out of its range.

"Reeaaaaaahhhhhhh!" Bane roared as his body twisted around to face the vigilante, even as he swung his other fist, an uppercut. Again, Batman backpedaled, avoiding the blow.

It was very reminiscent of their first fight and Batman was sure Bane was sensing this as well. However, trying to tire this man out by dodging would only go on for so long. Eventually, Bane would get wise to what he was doing, if he hadn't already. He could read the tension and frustration in the larger man's movements, so he wasn't in a cool mindset to begin with.

"Stay still, little man!" Bane bellowed as he threw his other fist again. While Batman sidestepped it, this time he wrapped his arms around Bane's, one at the forearm and the other at the bicep. Pivoting on his feet, Batman shoved his shoulder underneath Bane's arm while pressing his back right into the man's side. Pulling down on his arm, the vigilante leveraged his opponent's arm on his shoulder, lifting him off of the ground. With as much strength as he could muster, Batman threw Bane over his shoulder, sending the man flying a short distance away, where he landed face-first on the ground.

Backpedaling a couple steps, Batman then braced himself, right before he took off running. Timing it perfectly as Bane began to push himself up, turning his head to look at the dark-clad man, the vigilante leaped into the air at the last moment, leaning backwards as he extended a leg out. His flying kick nailed Bane in the face, snapping his head in the other direction as he unwillingly lunged away from the Dark Knight, collapsing back down to the ground.

The moment Batman landed on the ground, he bounced away, just in time too as Bane suddenly swiped an arm out, attempting to knock his feet out from underneath him. As the masked man began to scramble back onto his feet, Batman had a bat-shaped shuriken in hand. The last time he had used this weapon, Bane had caught it with ease. That, of course, had been because the distance between them allowed him to react.

Let's see how he took defending the shuriken up close and personal.

By the time Bane was back on his feet, Batman flung out his arm, throwing the projectile. Just as he expected, the bat-shaped shuriken collided with Bane's forehead, again causing his head to jerk backwards, and promptly stopping the man from lunging at him.

And there was an opening. Letting out a war cry, Batman threw himself at Bane, throwing a punch. His fist slammed right into Bane's exposed throat, which immediately caused the man's head to snap back, even as he gagged from the blow.

Drawing his fist back, Batman then jumped towards his foe, extending a foot out so that it landed right on Bane's leg, just above the knee. Raising up his other leg, bending it at the knee, the Dark Knight then sprung up off Bane's leg, ramming his knee into the man's face. Reaching the apex of his leap, Batman then shot both of his hands above his head, clasping them together. As he began to fall back down, he swung his hands down, delivering a jackhammer blow to the top of Bane's head.

The force of the blow dropped the masked man to the ground, Batman landing before him. For a moment, Bane didn't move. He could see his opponent just laying there. That was why he didn't immediately jump away, instead calmly backing away a couple paces.

And then the giant moved. It was slow, gingerly even, but slowly Bane began to push himself back up. "You've improved," the man grunted begrudgingly. "You are not the same man I fought before."

"I'm well-rested," the Dark Knight responded. "And you look slow. Jervis Tetch's machine exploding took a lot out of you."

"Perhaps it has," Bane admitted. "But I have enough strength to defeat you even like this."

And then Bane lunged at him. At first, Batman eyed the man's arms as one was drawn back, the other held in front of him. However, Bane leaned backwards at the last moment and lashed out with a foot. It was too late for the dark-clad man to avoid it, Batman taking the full brunt of the blow to the chest.

The force of the hit sent Batman flying backwards a few feet, the bottom of his boots skidding across the ground until he came to a stop. In an instant, Bane closed the distance between them, his giant fist slamming into the side of the vigilante's face, snapping his head to one side.

As spit flew out of his mouth, Batman couldn't help but notice that even in his haggard state, Bane was still as strong as ever. That wasn't even considering the strength his Venom gave him either.

However, Bane was never one to only throw one punch and he was forced to recover quickly. As expected, Bane was throwing his other fist at him, to which Batman immediately shot his arm up, blocking the punch and forcing it to fly just above his shoulder. On instinct, the vigilante threw a fist, one that rammed right into Bane's abdomen.

And did nothing. _Damn it!_ Batman was stumbling right into how their first fight went. He had punched Bane in the same spot and it had been like hitting a wall. The next thing he knew, Bane's massive hands suddenly latched onto his shoulders, the hulk raising him up into the air. If it weren't for the wrestler's mask, Batman was certain he would have seen a fierce, twisted smirk on Bane's face.

Letting out a war cry, Bane then threw Batman down to the ground, his back and left shoulder taking the brunt of the crash as he cried out.

* * *

Zatanna was not a dog person. Sure, she could handle them when they were sleeping, but when they were awake, excited, and slobbering, she just couldn't deal.

Right now, she had a hand gripping tightly onto Cassandra's shoulder. Much like a dog owner holding a leash, she was doing the same thing to the girl. Unlike the Network, the two of them were sharing this building.

A lot of that had to do with Bruce's wish for a one-on-one fight. It was most certainly some macho man bullshit, but she couldn't deny him a rematch. Cassandra, on the other hand, could. She had tried, but all Bruce did was look her deep in the eyes, the two having a silent staring contest.

"_I have to do this,"_ he had said then.

"_Why alone? Why does it only have to be you?"_ the girl had demanded. "_Is it because you want revenge? Or is it to save this city?"_

Zatanna suspected that neither choice had been the correct one. Oh yes, by beating Bane, Gotham would be saved and that was the result all of them wanted. For the magician, she could see there was something else afoot. She knew a slight of hand when she saw one and to her, Bruce had another motive. That he needed to prove he was still able to fight the worst of what Gotham could throw at him and get back up. To prove that he was still able to fight.

To prove he was truly back.

Needless to say, Cassandra lost their staring contest and gave in. Everyone—forever and ever—would always give into the man. He was stubborn, hard-headed, and had the annoying perchance of being right more times than not.

Which is why she was at the girl's side. If her words to the rest of the Network where any indication, she was on constant vigil for the first moment of weakness in Bruce. The first time he was in trouble, she would go swinging in and take on Bane, brutally if allowed.

Not that anyone could tell her not to be.

_C'mon, Bruce, get up,_ she chanted in her head. _Or else you're about to have your hands full with Bane and a furious teenage girl._

* * *

As rough as the landing had been, Batman wasn't completely helpless. In fact, he had a perfect view of what Bane was going to do next, even though he wasn't in the best position to counter it.

Rearing back on one leg, Bane raised the foot of the other one, then forced it downward. Eyes widening, Batman immediately rolled to a side, just barely avoiding the stomping foot as it smashed down on the ground where he had been laying. The cement crumbled from the blow, cracks spreading out in all directions.

This didn't faze Bane in the least. Undeterred, he spun his body to keep the Dark Knight in front of him. Fist raised, he threw it down. Continuing to roll, Batman avoided it, the punch slamming into the ground and breaking the ground much like his foot had.

Over and over, Batman rolled, Bane following him as he threw punch after punch like a jackhammer. Fist-sized holes formed right where the large man's blows landed. Getting tired of the world spinning around him, Batman finally stopped rolling, ending up on his side as one arm propped up his upper body.

Unfortunately, all of his rolling hadn't put any distance between him and Bane. The giant man loomed over him, legs bent at the knees so that he could better throw his cement-crushing punches. "Finished running away?" the man taunted.

Yeah, you could say he was. With a hand at his belt, Batman shoved it into the first pouch he could and got lucky. As Bane raised his fist and promptly began to throw it, the vigilante threw out his own arm, tossing a flashbang grenade right at his foe's head.

The moment the flashbang grenade struck Bane's face, it detonated, a blinding flash erupting as a deafening thunder rang out. Thanks to his cowl, Batman was largely saved the debilitating effects.

As for Bane, he took it all. No doubt his eyes were burning and his ears were ringing. Crying out, the large man stumbled backwards, hands clutching at his head, unsure whether to cover his ears and eyes, so his hands were constantly moving, clumsily gripping at his head.

Scrambling onto his feet, Batman remained crouched for a moment before he charged at Bane. Though he was wide open, he knew from experience that simply punching the man would not work. No, he had something else in mind and it all had to do with Bane's greatest weakness—that being his head.

Jumping up at the last moment, he leaned backwards as he threw up his legs. The back of his thighs landed on Bane's shoulders and the moment they did the vigilante squeezed his legs around the man's head.

Throwing his body backwards, he pulled Bane off his feet, swinging him downwards to the ground. Reaching out with one hand, Batman braced himself in a handstand even as he released his leg hold on his foe. This left Bane to crash headfirst into the ground, his body collapsing a moment later.

Flipping back onto his feet, Batman was just in time to see Bane pushing himself back up. Keeping a hand pressed to his face, he wildly swung an arm out, an attack that came nowhere near the Dark Knight. His balance thrown off, he stumbled a step, then two, then again swung the same arm harmlessly threw the air. "Where are you?!" the man demanded. "Come out and fight!"

Well, if that's what he wanted. Batman tensed himself, ready for another go when he spotted something. Hmm, that could be useful. He'd have to position himself, even time it perfectly, but he could deal Bane some serious damage.

Why the hell not?

Silently, Batman glided around Bane, circling him as the man continued to stumble and flail about. He would purposefully make a sound, actively strike his foot on the ground, which caused the giant to throw himself in his direction, though his wild punch or kick came nowhere near him. "Is this all you are?!" Bane roared as his frustration mounted. "I was wrong to respect you so!"

"Respect this." Again, Batman leaped at the man, wrapping his legs around his head again. Throwing himself backwards, he once more pressed a hand to the ground even as he swung Bane up and then down.

However, instead of throwing Bane to the ground like last time, he sent the man head first into the spotlight. His head smashed into the glass, causing it to shatter as his body followed him into the large signal light.

Half a heartbeat later, it exploded.

* * *

"Jesus!" Nightwing swore as a fireball exploded up into the air.

If he didn't know any better, he would've said Batman was toying with Bane this whole fight. He had been keeping the massive man at arm's length the entire fight, controlling every step, every punch, and every throw. Watching him throw Bane into the Bat Signal and causing it to explode was incredible.

This was completely different from the time he had fought Bane. Bane had been this insurmountable mountain and he had proven it. With ease, he had disposed of him and Huntress and Red Hood. Now though, the shoe was on the other foot.

At least, that's what he would have thought had the last few months not happened. Batman was playing this close to the vest, not taking too many chances against this guy. It was conservative and made sure a knockout blow could not be throw by either of them. Was tiring out Bane a viable strategy?

That's when a sound caught his ears. Looking up, Nightwing spotted a helicopter approaching, though it was one he easily recognized as the Channel 6 newscopter, its red and white painted sides standing out in the night's sky. It came to hover above the construction site, a spotlight turning on and angled right on the burning remains of the Bat Signal. This caused the entire roof to light up, including Batman as he stood staring at the raging fire, a dark cloud of smoke rising into the air.

"Well, Batman," Nightwing muttered. "I hope you enjoy being on TV. You're about to be on Prime Time."

* * *

Batman looked up at the newscopter as it lit up the roof. It shouldn't have been so surprising to have them arrive; annoying, but not entirely unexpected.

Suddenly, he heard the sound of metal screeching and protesting. Jerking his head back to the destroyed spotlight, he saw Bane slowly shoving himself out of the wreckage. The man was hurt, he could see it. Between Tetch's machine, the flashbang grenade, and now the spotlight explosion, Bane had taken more damage than he probably had his entire life.

Batman couldn't help the smugness he felt about that thought.

"I...have had...enough…" the masked man growled as he slowly turned to look at the vigilante, keeping one hand on the frame of the spotlight. The bottom part of his mask was torn off, revealing his mouth as blood leaked out of it. There were more burns on his body and rips in his pants. It was like he was barely held together. "I am finished...playing with you…"

"Going to use your Venom now?" Batman goaded him. "You should have used it at the beginning."

"Perhaps. It seems I've underestimate you." Bane then shoved himself from the debris, standing wobbly on his feet. Raising his right hand up, he moved it to the device on his left wrist, his fingers grabbing the knob. "That is a mistake I will not be repeating."

And then he turned the knob. Instantly, the machine turned out, Venom running down the tube from the device and up into his head. Bane bared his teeth as he groaned, his body spasming as it grew larger, bulking up. Large veins began to protrude from his skin, pulsating with every beat of his heart.

Finally, it was time for the main event.

Bane growled with every breath he took, sounding like a wild animal. A dangerous animal. Twisting his body, he grabbed the remains of the spotlight on either side of the metal frame and yanked it off the roof. Sparks shot out of the fractured base as Bane turned back to face the Dark Knight. He then ripped the spotlight in half.

"REEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHH!" Bane roared as he chunked half of the heavy scrap metal at Batman. Seeing it careening for his head, the dark-clad man dropped down, going into a crouched pose as the spotlight flew over his head.

Immediately, he saw the other half flying right for him. Diving to a side, the vigilante went into a roll seconds before the broken spotlight crashed right where he had been kneeling, bouncing off the ground as it went tumbling across the roof and out of sight.

Ending up on his feet while still keeping low, Batman had to jerk his head upward to see Bane in midair, having leaped perhaps moments after throwing the last remains of the spotlight at him. He had his fist drawn back as he began falling towards the vigilante.

Batman immediately sprung backwards, Bane's fist driving down where he had been standing, and burst through the cement. A large hole formed almost instantly, the hole growing bigger and bigger as the edges chipped off, cracks spreading out in all directions. Continuing to backpedal, Batman moved underneath the skeletal framework of the construction site, keeping his eyes focused on his opponent.

Pulling his fist up, Bane lunged towards the Dark Knight, taking one step over the hole he had made and not breaking his stride. Yanking his grapple gun out, Batman stuck his arm out to his side and fired the grapple claw at a random I-beam. He retracted the grapple the moment he could, flying up through the air just as Bane lashed out with a foot, stomping it right where he had been standing.

Reaching the I-beam, Batman hauled himself on top of it, finding himself to be two stories above Bane. "That's right! Run!" the large man roared as he turned to face him, head tilted back. "There is nowhere you can hide from me!"

As he looked down, Batman couldn't help but notice all of the construction equipment lying about. There were I-beams stacked on top of each other, pallets with boxes of nails and bolts, even a small cement mixer; that wasn't even including the discarded power tools left by the construction crew.

Seeing nothing he could use at the moment, the vigilante turned to his belt. Pulling out the cylindrical Concussion Detonator, he tossed it into the air, watching it fall down towards Bane. If there was anything in his arsenal that could produce a powerful punch, that would be it.

Bane immediately focused on the falling cylinder, watching and waiting until he shot a hand out and caught the Concussion Detonator in his hand. The size of his hand was so big that it completely surrounded the device in his grip.

Suddenly, Bane's hand jerked and the entire length of his arm trembled. "Is that all you can do?" the masked man growled as he rotated his hand, uncurling his fingers to revealed the shattered remains of the Concussion Detonator. "That was pitiful."

Well, that was disappointing. Unfortunately, Batman wasn't given a second chance to check the equipment in his belt. Reaching down and to a side, Bane's hand found the cement mixer next to him. The metal of the mixer crumpled beneath the man's fingers, creating a grip for him. With relative ease, he lifted the cement mixer single-handedly and threw it at the vigilante.

Leaping from his perch, Batman soared over the hurling mixer, which slammed into the horizontal I-beam he had been standing on, denting it as the mixer ricocheted off of it and vanished into the night. Descending, the Dark Knight landed on an I-beam one story down and opposite of the one he had been on.

Suddenly, a massive hand clamped down on the metal beam a short distance away. A second later and Bane hauled himself onto the I-beam, turning to face the vigilante. Instinctively, the dark-clad man backed away until the heel of his boot came into contact with a vertical I-beam a moment later.

Without hesitation, Bane lunged at him, throwing a punch for his head. Instantly, Batman ducked down, the fist barely passing over his head and rammed right into the vertical I-beam, the steel bending from the blow and causing the entire structure to shake and groan.

Seeing as he was at the juncture of four horizontal beams meeting at a vertical one, the vigilante had a couple options before him. Darting to his left, he jumped to the intersecting beam and moved down it, putting some distance between him and Bane.

Bane wasn't having any of that though as he jumped to the beam as well, pulling his already-extended arm across his body and then swinging it out. Batman had to yank himself backwards just to avoid the swing, feeling a strong wind pull on him as the massive appendage passed in front of his face.

However, instead of continuing to back away, Batman saw an opportunity to use his foe's momentum against him. Leaping up, Batman shot his hands up to the I-beam above his head, his fingers wrapping around the lower end. Pressing his legs together, he swung them upward, timing his double-legged kick perfectly as his feet slammed right into Bane's face, causing his head to snap backwards.

Batman grimace as the force of his feet meeting skull ran up his legs. That had been harder than expected. Well, since he was still clinging to the beam above, he continued to swing his legs upwards, wrapping one around the metal beam so that he could steady himself. As quickly as he could, he pulled himself onto the beam, looking down at Bane the moment he had his footing.

However, he wasn't done. Again, he jumped up to the I-beam above his head, swiftly climbing onto that as well. That put two stories between him and Bane again.

At least, that's what he had planned. Suddenly, the skeletal framework began to tremor, causing him to snap his eyes down. Bane had moved to the nearest vertical I-beam and had jumped upward, grabbing onto the intersecting horizontal I-beams. He had his feet braced on the vertical beam was scaling up the framework.

Alright, this was becoming too much. It was time to end this Venom-fueled strength. Pulling out a bat-shaped shuriken, Batman held his ground until Bane grabbed onto the beam he stood on. That's when he leaped into the air, going into a flip over his opponent's head as he soared into the open space of the framework.

As the world appeared upside down, his feet to the sky and head towards the ground, Batman threw his shuriken at Bane, aiming right for the Venom tube at the back of his head.

His aim was true. He watched as the projectile collided with the tube, pulling it along its flight path, stretching it—

Only for the tube to snap back, throwing the bat-shaped shuriken away. Batman's mouth dropped open at the sight even as he began to complete his flip, legs swinging downward as his head rose up. He landed on another I-beam—in fact, it was the one he had grappled to when he and Bane had rushed into the scaffolding. He was mindful not to step on the dented, damage part, though that was secondary at the moment.

What the hell had just happened? That shuriken of his should have severed the tube. Yet, it had acted just like a rubber band, stretching out before snapping back into place.

"You're probably asking yourself what just happened," Bane's voice called out. Returning his attention to the hulk, he found the man, still hanging to the I-beams, though he had one foot firmly planted on the vertical beam. He was twisting his body around so that he could look at the Dark Knight, looking very much like a gorilla. "And I shall answer you. I hadn't realized just what a liability my Venom tube was, not until Ra's al Ghul cut it during our last fight. So I had it reinforced, removing that as a weakness."

_Damn it, Ra's,_ Batman growled inside of his head. Of course it would occur to the Demon's Head how to weaken Bane. Now that the tube couldn't be cut, that left yanking it out of the man's head the only option left and that wasn't going to be an easy feat. In fact, the dark-clad man was betting Bane had thought of that and reinforced it as well.

That was when Bane sprung off the beams he clung to, flying towards the vigilante. Immediately, he shot his hands into his belt, pulling out his electrified brass knuckles with them already firmly on his fingers. Balling his hands into fists, he slammed them together, a burst of electricity crackling about his knuckles from the collision, the electric bolts dancing across his fingers even as he pulled his fists apart.

A moment before Bane landed on top of him, Batman dove to one side, going into a roll down the I-beam, ending up on his feet just as Bane landed on top of the beam, the metal twisting around his feet from the force of the landing.

Pivoting on his feet, Bane swung his right fist, throwing it right for the vigilante's head. Darting in low, Batman threw his left fist up, uppercutting Bane's arm at the forearm. Immediately, the electricity from his brass knuckles shocked the man, causing the muscles to spasm as Bane's fist weakened, his fingers curling outward. He even heard a hiss come from the giants man's lips.

Without hesitating, Batman drove his other fist right into Bane's abdomen. Unlike the last time he had tried a gut shot, the electricity his brass knuckles delivered softened the muscles so it didn't feel like he was punching a wall. Immediately, Batman began slamming punch after punch into Bane's stomach, driving him back step after step after each blow.

That's when it happened. Having seen the opening he had created, the vigilante had thrown everything after it. That left him complacent until the moment Bane's hand suddenly clamped down on his arm, stopping him from throwing another punch. The force the giant man used on his arm was incredible, pain beginning to sear up and down his forearm. Unable to help himself, he hissed as he felt a pop in his arm, undoubtedly a fracture forming.

Suddenly, he was yanked right off the I-beam as Bane began to spin around in a circle, which spun the vigilante with him. The next thing he knew, Bane let go of him, sending the dark-clad man flying through the air at incredible speeds. The wind shrieked in his ears before his back collided with a vertical I-beam.

Pain exploded through his back as he cried out, ricocheting off of it as he went wildly tumbling through the air. Apparently he had hit it at an edge rather than its center; regardless, that didn't change the amount of pain he was feeling as fire raced through his back. His eyes were squeezed shut as he whipped around blindly. Forcing them open, he found he was heading right for another I-beam, a horizontal one this time. Twisting and turning his body as best as he could, he collided with the I-beam against his chest, his arms wrapping around the top of the beam as his legs dangled beneath him.

Damn it, that had been a rookie move. He should have been attacking other parts of Bane rather than focused on one place. He knew better than that. And speaking of which, he turned his head to look at his opponent, only to find the man had leaped into the air, flying towards his hanging form.

Gritting his teeth in spite of the throbbing he felt in his arm, back, and chest, Batman hauled his legs up, pressing his feet onto the side of the I-beam, and then pushed off of it, springing off of the beam. As he threw himself into the open shaft created by the framework, Bane landed right where he had been clinging to the beam, the metal crumpling beneath his heavy feet.

Beginning to fall through the air, Batman shot his hands to his belt, digging into two different pouches. The brass knuckles thankfully didn't get in his way as he dug in his belt. Pulling out bat-shaped shuriken with both hands, he immediately threw them at Bane.

By then, Bane had spun around and lunged off of the I-beam. The shuriken struck the masked man as flew, one at the juncture of his left shoulder and pectoral muscle and the other dead center of the right pectoral. The wing tips dug into the man's body, causing blood to spurt out.

Yet, this did not stop the man as he roared, dropping down onto the Dark Knight. Before he could even react, Bane thrust a hand out, slamming his palm right down onto the vigilante's chest, his thumb and index finger nearly wrapping around his throat. Instinctively, the vigilante grabbed onto Bane's arm, unable to dislodge it from its vice-like grip. The two men plummeted through the air, picking up speed until they crashed on the ground. A cloud of dust erupted around the two, covering them for only a brief moment.

The air in Batman's lungs was forced out of him upon landing, leaving him breathless as he gasped. Though the throbbing in his back had grown stronger, he was surprised to find it wasn't as bad as he thought. Even as he sucked in precious air, his mind was trying to figure out why. With one of his hands, he pressed down on the ground and realized it was much softer than he expected.

Of course, he had seen Bane shatter the cement over and over during their fight. No way would he have been able to do that if the rock was this soft. It occurred to him a moment later what was going on.

_Zatanna._ She must have used a spell to soften the cement to better cushion his crash. Even now he could feel the cement solidifying until it was completely solid. It was as if she were trying to help him without him finding out.

That thought was immediately ripped away when he felt himself be hauled right off the ground and held in the air, arms and legs dangling at below him and at his sides. That was when Bane rammed a fist right into his abdomen, leaving him breathless all over again.

"Do you not see it?" Bane said then, turning them to face the other direction even as he pulled his fist back again. "You are nothing against me—_nothing._ No matter how many times you fight me, the result will always be the same. I am your superior in every facet."

And then Bane threw his punch again, slamming it into Batman's face while simultaneously releasing him. Again, the vigilante was sent flying through the air, hurling through it until he began to fall, landing back on the ground seconds later. Of course, his body bounced off of the ground over and over until his momentum slowed down and he went into a roll. Coming to a stop, Batman laid there for a moment, trying to catch his breath even though he knew he couldn't afford to. He couldn't feel his electrified brass knuckles on his hands any more, most likely having fallen off during his tumble.

Slowly, he began to push himself up, coming to a stop when he realized Bane was right next to him. Forcing himself up, he found Bane's fist right in front of his face, an instant later ramming into the side of his head, knocking him back to the ground.

The giant man's hand then grabbed onto his shoulder, another wrapping around his neck. From sheer strength alone, Bane lifted him up into the air, holding him right in front of him. "You have nothing!" he proclaimed "Beg for mercy! SCREAM MY NAME!"

The very thought of doing what Bane demanded was disgusting and Batman wouldn't have any of it. "Go to hell," he growled back.

Bane's reaction was instant. Lifting the vigilante up higher, he then threw him back down to the ground, Batman crying out as the roof cracked from his impact. The hulk then raised a foot up, ready to stamp it down. Forcing himself, Batman rolled to a side, just before Bane dropped his foot, slamming down right where he had been laying and causing even more cracks to appear on the ground.

And then the man swung his back leg forward, landing a kick to the Dark Knight's side. The force of the blow lifted him right off the ground, sending him careening through the air until he crashed right into the broken stand the signal light had once stood on. It was basically a pipe with a jagged edge from where the spotlight had been ripped off, though fortunately the vigilante only collided with the side of the shaft rather than its jagged tip. Again, he grunted as he bounced off the piece of twisted metal, landing back down on the ground.

This was not going the way he thought it would. Batman's entire body hurt, throbbing and sore. He couldn't find the strength to push himself up again, instead lying on the ground, panting as he tried to recover from each blow.

Bane's feet suddenly stomped right next to him. The next thing he knew, the hulk's hands wrapped around a leg and the back of his neck, lifting him up into the air and holding him above the man's head. Batman found himself looking up into the sky, seeing the newscopter hovering overhead, its light beaming down on the two.

It was an all too familiar view.

"This will be the last time I fight you, Batman," Bane said beneath him, causing the vigilante to turn his head to look at the top of his head. Inadvertently, this gave him a good look at the device on the masked man's arm, the one that controlled his Venom feed. "Now I will break you and then I will rip your head from your shoulders and use it as a trophy!"

_Like hell you will._ Immediately, Batman reached to his belt, pulling out yet another shuriken. Throwing his arm up, he then swung it downward, twisting his body in Bane's hands so that he could drive the end of the bat-shaped shuriken right into the device.

Instantly, the shuriken tore into the device, a spurt of green Venom fluid shooting out. Electricity danced over the control, tickling at Bane's arm.

"Eh?" Bane grunted as he turned his head to look at device. As if on cue, Venom began rushing through the tube and right into his head, his muscles beginning to spasm and grow almost immediately.

"No!" Bane cried out as he released his hold on the vigilante. Immediately, Batman threw himself behind the man, landing crouched on his feet, cape falling behind him. In the meantime, Bane grabbed at the Venom control, trying to turn off the feed. "No, the Venom! Can't...stop it!"

That's when his body's reaction to the Venom went into overdrive. His arms stretched out to absurd lengths, muscles exploding to impossible sizes. His chest expanded outward, defining each and every muscle there. His neck thickened almost to the point where it looked as if Bane would suffocate from the thickness. Veins that had been pulsating earlier enlarged, practically protruding from his body.

Bane cringed inward then before lashing out with his arms, throwing them at his sides as he jerked his head backwards. His teeth were gnashed together, practically melding to each other as a strained groan ripped through his lips.

"Noooo! Heeeelp meeeee!" he cried out as he stumbled forward a step, then another, collapsing to one knee by the edge of the incomplete building. Staring at him for a moment, Batman then turned his head away, spotting a coil of chains right next to a vertical I-beam.

Well, well, maybe he could help.

"AaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Bane screamed as his body convulsed and grew another size. Striding away from him, Batman grabbed one end of the chain when he reached it and swung it around the I-beam. Luckily there was a hook attachment at the chain's end, which he hooked in one of the chain links. Giving a rough tug on it, he was satisfied that it would hold.

"You can't do this to me!" Bane bellowed then, once again throwing his head back, body simultaneously cringing on itself and expanding outward. "I am invincible!

"I AM BANE!"

By then, Batman had trudged back to the suffering man. Calmly, he wrapped the other end of the chain around Bane's Venom tube, hooking it together much like he had with the end around the I-beam. Satisfied with his work, he took a step back.

There was a part of him, angry and irate with the man before him. It wanted to say something, one last rejoinder full of snark and rage. Yet, he couldn't find it in himself to do it. It wasn't him.

So he reared back on one leg while he lifted up the other, then kicked out with it. His foot slammed into Bane's back, pushing him forward and out over the edge.

Bane fell off the building, tumbling wildly headfirst as the chain rushed down after him. The chain links slid out of its pile of coils, moving faster and faster with every second until the last coil was gone. Due to Bane's speed, the chain yanked hard on the I-beam, the metal beam not giving an inch.

Several stories down, the chain reached its full length. This caused Bane's head to snap back as his legs were flung beneath him and swung upwards. Due to the contradicting forces, Bane's falling momentum and the chain's sudden stop, the chain forcibly removed the Venom tube out of his head, taking with it bloody pieces of skin, muscle, and fragments of skull.

For a moment, Bane seemed to hover in mid-air, his back to the ground, his face to the sky. Then gravity set in and he resumed falling. He didn't reach the same velocity as he had after being kicked from the top and that's what saved him as he crashed down hard on a pile of building supplies. Pieces of wood shattered and splinted, ends of metal pipes bending upwards. A cloud of dust was thrown up into the air.

Standing at the edge of the building, Batman looked down at his fallen foe. He could see Bane lying there, a pool of Venom spreading outward from his body, and the man not so much as twitching. Moments went by before Batman came to the conclusion that his foe wouldn't be getting back up again. Whatever fight was left in Bane, it was gone now, draining out of him much like his Venom.

A breeze blew by then, causing Batman's cape to rise up and billow behind him. The light of the newscopter was firmly on him, though thankfully it wasn't in his eyes. Raising his head up, he looked out at the city's skyline.

At long last, this war was over.

* * *

A quick note: some, if not many, of you may recognized some aspects of this chapter. A lot was taken right from the BTAS episode _Bane,_ particularly Bane's last words as he suffered a Venom overdose. Those are the same words from the episode, which I found rather fitting for the end. There are a couple other elements in the fight as well that came from that episode.

To Guest: Technically Batman is always recording thanks to the cameras in his mask. I'm certain the newscopter caught the rest


	37. Infinity

**This is where I belong**

**And all these city lights  
Another endless night  
Full of all possibilities  
Raise your glass to eternity**

**I never felt so high  
It's never been this right  
And it's all about you and me  
From tonight until infinity**

**-Infinity by Young Guns**

* * *

Waller had been true to her word, and Gordon had been on the first boat over the river. From there, it hadn't taken him long to get back to the precinct and reestablish his authority over the department. It was hard marching into the station and finding out how rough the officers here had had it.

It was clear they were all at the breaking point, on their last thread when he had come and informed them that help was on the way and the blockade was over. From there, he was organizing them and then heading out to retrieve a welcome gift from a certain vigilante.

Batman hadn't held back this time. It showed.

For the time being, they would keep Bane in a holding cell and have medical personnel attend him there. With the state of Gotham as it was, he didn't trust that the hospitals were equipped, or secure enough to hold someone like this man, no matter had bad of a beating he had taken. Who knew if he still didn't have loyalists somewhere in the city, ready to take advantage of a convoy?

There was also another reason to bring him to the precinct.

In the same cells, his men and women in blue had managed to round up a hefty portion of Bane's hired goons and were currently holding them there. Stories of how these men would spit and sneer and say who knew what—actually, he had a fairly good idea even though he didn't speak the language—in Spanish; their arrogance was not the least bit affected by their apprehension.

The Commissioner was going to have to do something about that. These people had done terrible things to his city, and while things like decency and human rights would prevent him from doing some _very_ satisfying things, there were others ways to hit them. But first, it couldn't hurt by trying to be friendly.

Entering the hallway in which all the holding cells connected, the Commissioner strolled down it, but not before instructing a few officers behind him to hold back and wait for a few minutes. His footsteps sounded loud to him and that could have been helped by the fact that it was so quiet in here.

That ended as soon as he came into the sights of one of the mercenaries and the swearing and taunting in Spanish began. The thing about that was it made it easy to ignore it; it was hard to take offense when you had no idea what was being thrown at you. None of it stopped the Commissioner from taking in the sight of all the cells with Bane's mercenaries filling them, each more hostile and taunting than the last.

There was one that stood out the most; a thin, balding man who looked content in staying silent, as if all the words volleying around him was nothing more than a spectator sport. Gordon knew this to be one of Bane's lieutenants, though general might be a better description. Making a beeline to the man he already knew as Zombie, the mustached law officer came to a stop and gave his counterpart a look-over.

Zombie returned him look for look, giving no impression that he was impressed by what he saw. "If you think you're going to get something out of me, you're out of your league. Move along," he spoke drily

Even captive, this guy was so arrogant. "I thought I'd give you one last shot, a chance to come clean before I hit you and your friends here with everything my department has," Gordon told him

As if sensing there was something happening between two superior officers, the rest of the mercenaries were gradually quieting down. All the better to listen in and see what their de facto leader had to say.

"That would be something," Zombie drawled, which was a bit difficult since he had his nose bandaged up. "Last I checked, the very men here successfully raided this very building. I see you managed to patch one of the holes."

There was some hooting and hollering, the mercenaries cheering their leader on. It would be the American version of "oooooooh" if Gordon had to describe it.

"I've heard you are a tough nut to crack. You haven't said anything other than to taunt my men," Gordon commented.

"Ah, you must be the commissioner," Zombie commented. "Is this your turn to try? Do show me what you're capable of, while you still can."

"Still can?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow.

Zombie took a step closer to the bars, peering between them with sunken eyes. "This little stay won't last. Do you really think Bane will let us waste away here? We're a standing army, ready to be unleashed. We've proven we're more than a match for anything you can throw at us."

"And yet we still caught you," Gordon retorted.

"Your little vigilante did your dirty work. We ran circles around you and we'll do it again. It's only a matter of time." The bald man gave a thin-lipped smirk.

Gordon ignored the quip about the vigilantes. That was something for another time.

"I hate to break it to you, but I have no plans to keep you all here," he stated, the light from the fixtures above reflecting off his glasses and obscuring his eyes. "I hear Blackgate is ready to accept new guests and I do believe the warden will be more than happy to take in the people responsible for attacking it. I think she has a cell reserved for your boss already."

"Make your threats. You can't stop Bane. Gotham will be his, one way or another," Zombie spoke, speaking like he was talking about the weather. "He will break you, Commissioner. He will break your department and then this city itself. This, this is only an intermission."

"Is that so?" Gordon gestured with an arm towards an officer at the end of the hallway. "I guess negotiations are over. Before I forget, I had another reason for coming down here. Dropping off another member of your outfit, though we have a private cell reserved just for him. Maybe you can recognize him for me first."

No sooner had he stopped talking when a gurney was wheeled into the hallway, a large body strapped down to it. As the wheels squeaked from the weight forced on them, Gordon waited as he observed how Zombie and his fellow mercenaries directed their attention towards the newcomer.

Then he watched as the smugness and arrogance drained out of all of them.

On that gurney that was moving closer and closer to him was none other than what remained of Bane. The outfit he wore was in tatters, stretched out and ripped to pieces. Various bandages over the worst of his wounds could be seen, a lot of it was on the back of the head, but what was the crowning achievement was that the mask that he had wore practically every second of every day was removed and laying atop his chest..

Gordon was a bit surprised. He had always imagined a gruff, hardened face under that mask. Imagine his surprise to see that it was perfectly mundane. The eyes were set too close to one another, the nose jutted out way too much, and the lips were a bit too full. Add to some chubbiness to the cheeks and you had one of the least intimidating faces ever imagined.

No wonder he wore the mask. No one in their right mind would ever be terrified of this man if they knew what was underneath it.

Normally, with the kind of injuries Bane had, he would be in a hospital, but after that mind control business, such places were working overtime with all the injuries from the fighting. Plus, he didn't trust the security enough to keep someone like this bastard without losing them. Who knew if there were still elements in the city loyal to Bane and willing to break him out? No, the department would hold on to him until the Blackgate infirmary was ready.

Zombie's face was an open book. His eyes were nearly bulging out of their sockets, his mouth dropped open, and horror was written in every crevice of his face. Gordon reached passed the bars and grabbed the thin man by the front of this shirt. With a yank, he pulled Zombie close, the bald man banging into the bars.

With a growl, Gordon stated, "Your boss was weak. Gotham broke _him_. So much for being its next ruler. Next time, find someone who can give us a better challenge because the next people she breaks will be all of you."

With that, he gave Zombie a shove. It didn't matter if the Santa Priscan man was right before, all that mattered was how it ended. They may have been leading, but every game is decided in the fourth quarter, and that's where they choked.

Now it was his turn to taunt, and with Bane's restrained body wheeled past all his very quiet men, there was no better way to do that.

The silence of the holding cells in that moment would remain music to his ears for years to come.

* * *

It was silent in the limo. Dinah could feel the urge to nestle in it, especially since she was with Ollie. She hadn't relaxed in a long while, the stress of the last few months finally starting to subside.

Batman had no idea the effect he had on the entire city the moment he kicked Bane off of that construction site. The image of him standing there, strong, imposing, powerful, it had shut down the local criminal element, thugs and criminals hiding underneath the rocks they crawled out from. Gordon was coordinating the police once again, having been locked out of the city when the bridges had been blown. All of that was keeping a lid on things.

So of course, it was finally time for Ollie to return to his own city. Apparently he had his own stable of sidekicks and vigilantes scrambling across rooftops while he had been in Gotham, but it was starting to wear on his people. Unlike Gotham, these vigilantes were all experts with the bow, so Green Arrow's absence wouldn't have gone noticed for awhile.

"You know, I'm gonna miss you, Pretty Bird," Ollie said as he squeezed her hand. Their hands rested on the seat between them, though that wasn't saying much. They were perhaps a few inches away from sitting in the same seat.

"Me too, Ollie," she replied as she looked up at his handsome face. "Don't make yourself a stranger now that all the trouble is gone. I don't want to have to wait for the next crisis to see you again."

The blond man chuckled as he turned his head to rest his chin on top of her head. Absently, she slid over to him, moving their hands so that she could lean into him. "Perhaps I should buy me a penthouse, since I seem to be spending so much time here."

"That's not necessarily a bad idea."

"Besides, I smell opportunity here." This caused Dinah to frown, the blonde woman tilting her head to look up at the man. Ollie moved his head to allow her to do this, opting to look towards the front of the limo. "There's been a lot of damage to Gotham's infrastructure, not to mention the impact on business. I'm pretty certain my board would be willing to jump into the market here."

"Which of course will make you visit to make sure your investments are doing good."

"That and to see a pretty lady."

Dinah raised an eyebrow. "A pretty lady, huh? Is there someone else I don't know about?"

"Yeah." Ollie glanced down at her. "There's this flower girl I keep bumping into. Has the prettiest voice you ever heard. She can even use it to break glass if she tries."

"Well, tell her to keep her hands off of you. You're taken."

"I'm sure she got the message." He sighed. "I sure am going to miss the lot of you. It was...interesting."

"But not something you care to repeat."

"Who would? I do admit, I also miss home too. I need some good ol' R&R, though I think I won't get that opportunity for awhile." His eyes then lit up, as if he got a great idea. "I know, you could come visit anytime. My private jet is at your beck and call."

A smile crawled onto Dinah's face. "I'll think about it," she murmured, shutting her eyes as she took in a deep breath. He was wearing cologne; it smelled good. It was a shame he'd be leaving now that they had some off time. "You just hurry back, okay? Gotham needs all the hands it can get to rebuild."

"You got it, Pretty Bird."

* * *

Humming a mindless tune, Talia finished brushing her hair. Setting the brush down, she grabbed an earring and raised it to her ear, attaching it to the lob. It was nearly automatic for her, even with the large mirror in front of her so that she could see her handiwork.

Aside from her grooming and dressing, she kept her eye on the reflection of a table towards the back. Damian sat there, hunched over an iPad, the light glowing in his face. He had his eyes glued to the screen, the audio loud.

She didn't need to see the screen to know what was on it. Ever since it had been aired, many people had promptly posted the broadcast to media sites like Youtube. That was Damian's favorite site at the moment.

"Awesome," he said in a hushed whisper before jabbing his finger into the screen. The video restarted and he was consumed by it once more.

"One more viewing, Damian," the dark-haired woman called out as she put on her other earring. "We have a busy day ahead of us."

The look of wonder on the boy's face vanished as he looked up at her, his trademark scowl back in place. "Do I have to, Mother?"

"Yes, Damian. We are making our public debut in Gotham and appearances matter. You will be at my side during our press conference for the renovations we'll be doing to Gotham's east side."

"But what if more videos are posted? I have to see them!"

"There is plenty of time for you to see them."

"You haven't seen them, Mother. If you watched them, you would understand."

Oh, she knew. She had known for a long time what her Beloved was capable of. She had seen him in action before, long ago, but he was still magnificent. Damian hadn't had that exposure, so his fascination with the airing of his victory over Bane was all-consuming. "I understand all too well what your father has done."

"But he beat that man. Did you see how he kicked him off of that building? It was great!"

"Yes, Damian, of course it was." In fact, she rather did enjoy that moment. She would have refrained from using that chain that ended up saving the Santa Priscan's life, but perhaps allowing that man to live would entrap him with the shame of losing. Bane struck her as a man that was not used to losing, so such a defeat would not be easily accepted.

Standing up from the chair she sat in, Talia smoothed down the blouse she wore and the pencil skirt that complimented it. She would retrieve the matching jacket in all due time. For now, she needed to tear her son away from his hero worship.

Or perhaps father worship was a better choice of words.

"Now then, it is time for you to finish dressing. You can watch your videos later," she told him.

"But, Mooootheeeer," he whined.

Talia's face hardened. "That is enough, Damian. Go finish getting dressed, or I will take that toy away from you."

The young boy sulked, but he shoved his chair back and stood up, trudging out of the room. Talia watched him, even when he slammed the door shut behind him. Shaking her head at his petulance, she walked up to the table and picked up the tablet, looking down as she saw the playing video of Bane's large form writhing on his knees, her Beloved standing behind him just before he kicked him off the ledge..

For a moment, Talia made to stop the video, but then thought better of it. After all, her favorite part was about to play.

* * *

As a cool breeze blew past him, Red Robin was taking the time to admire his home city. Jump may be his new home, but his heart would always belong to Gotham. These last few weeks had only cemented that belief.

It was finally over, wasn't it? Bane was beaten and going to rot in a cell for the rest of his life, starting right back where he had started. All the other things from the Joker, to Hugo Strange, the Phantasm, Scarecrow, and freaking assassins, those had been wrapped up as well. They had accomplished so much, even though it had come at a price.

In the distance, he could see construction crews starting to get to work on one of the damaged bridges. For the time being, boats were being used for traffic. Who knew how long it was going to take to repair all the damage this city had taken.

But he was confident that Gotham would come out the stronger for it. It always did and it would continue to do so without him.

He had places to be and they were all back in Jump City. He needed to give a call to the folks and let them know that his field trip to the east coast was wrapping up. He was going back to his new home with its old problems, but hey, that was how it was in this business.

At least this time, he knew that Gotham would be safe under both the Network and the Batman.

Well, he hoped the Network would stick around and, you now, not break up. They could all do so much together, things they weren't capable of when alone, or in their little cliques.

Things could only go up from here, the masked teen felt. More importantly, he was leaving this time at the end of everything and not, you know, in the middle. He was still so grateful that Two-Face didn't get out of Arkham because that would have made things very awkward for him.

Speaking of awkward, Red Robin already knew Batman wanted him out of the city. Nothing needed to be said, only a look. The message was received and going to be carried out tonight. First, he'd visit with Barbara and Dick, say his goodbyes, then get out of Dodge. If there was time, he might throw some advice to the new girls, Spoiler and Bluebird. Just something to keep them alive and their identities a secret. Personal experience and all that.

That was the plan. As another breeze blew past him, he heard what sounded like something touching down on the rooftop, gravel crunching in a way that only happened with feet involved.

Was it Batman? No, he was quieter. That left a bunch of the other vigilantes, but which one? Was it Nightwing? If so, that meant one less trip needed to be made. Well, it could be Huntress, or wait, even Black Canary. They had had some fun times in Santa Prisca, so it stood to reason they'd have a goodbye themselves.

Turns out, it was none of the above.

"What are you doing all the way up here, Red? Trying to work on your Batman impression or something?" a very familiar red and gold-colored girl questioned, her lips curved upwards in a way that made his cheeks go warm. She was only a few feet behind him, but she was leaning forward, gauntlet-clad arms behind her back.

It took an exceptional amount of control for the masked teen to not blurt out her name. Hell, he was almost said the first syllable when he managed to stop himself. "What are you doing here?!" he exclaimed.

"I think you've been here too long. Have you forgotten already? Because 'Beast Boy' won't let us," Cassie, or Wonder Girl as everyone called her much to her annoyance, retorted.

It took him a second before Red Robin groaned, recalling the reason why he and his informal team of teenage crime-fighters had planning to come all the way out here in the first place. Yeah, that little matter. In all the fighting and action, that detail had slipped his mind. He was sure that a certain green-skinned teen would talk his ear off for it.

Instead, he said, "I thought you guys were still in the Keys, enjoying the sun and surf and all that jazz."

"Turns out that gets boring real fast," Cassie replied as she straightened her posture. With a hand that was covered in gold-colored armor, she brushed some hair out of her face. "After about a week, someone was about to tear someone else's face off, and I'm not exaggerating that part. Take a wild guess who is which."

He didn't need to take a guess. He already knew.

"So when did you get in? Tell me Raven teleported you and just you." Now the young vigilante was getting a bit desperate.

"As if. We sailed all the way up here, and hearing about the return of Batman is all anybody heard on the trip." Now Wonder Girl was grumbling, looking away from the slightly shorter male while crossing her arms disgruntly. "Got in like an hour ago. Took some effort to convince the rest to stay on the boat while one of us gets you. Now it's your turn, what do you know about that Nick guy that we've come all this way for? You better have a good answer otherwise I'm gonna have to stop being nice."

Yeah, and she's terrific back on the west coast. No, it was easy to tell that this whole bit of coming here and detouring to Santa Prisca was wearing on the girl's nerves. Her tolerance for stupid had been at its limit and that was why she had been extra snarky and, for lack of a better word, bitchy. She was very straightforward and despised detours of any kind.

Really reminded the vigilante of how they first met. He definitely fit into the detour category.

Enough of that, Cassie was expecting an answer and a good one at that.

So, he did the only thing that seemed reasonable. Lifting a hand to the earpiece he still wore, Red Robin made a query.

"Hey Oracle. What's the scoop on Galtry?"

* * *

It was a simple and small headstone, one so insignificant that your average Joe would walk past it without a thought. All that was carved into the rock was a name and a year.

Then again, what did you expect to find in a cemetary used for people who died in the nearby hospital and were too poor to afford burial service, or were unidentified and/or unclaimed. It was the best that could be done for a life that had ended too soon and too tragically.

Having decided to take the night off, Dick stared down at the name that seemed to glare back at him, taunting him with his greatest failure to date. Every single letter of the names JASON and TODD felt like individual blows to the young man, condemning him and demanding why he had let this happen.

Now that there was time to breathe, there was time to grieve.

With hands in his pockets, he gave a big sigh, his shoulders slumping. He felt as if it should be cold out, but the warming weather decided that it wasn't going to cooperate with such a wish. Well, at least he wasn't alone.

Beside him was the woman from the clinic, the one that the Batclan had taken Batman to after Bane had thrown him into the streets. Leslie Thompkins is what he thought her name was. He had to look it up before he had approached her because it had been to her that he had left Jason's bloodied and beaten body. In exchange for her help then, he had to take off, and he was using quotes here, his "stupid mask" whenever he was around her.

Yeah, the doctor knew what he looked like, but she didn't know who he was and didn't seem to care. Apparently, she thought he was better looking without the mask. He had a sense she meant that maternally and not in any other way.

Since he was taking that long awaited breath, one that had been metaphorically held ever since the war with Bane had begun, Dick approached Thompkins to find out what she had did with Jason. To make a short story even shorter, this was where she had taken him.

"I had to treat him every once in a while. He always made a fuss, but took it," Dr. Thompkins commented.

Yeah, that did sound like Jason. Always wanting to be the tough guy, but if you hammered your point in enough he would give in. He was guessing that was what the doctor did in order to get him to take his very literal medicine. Then again, Thompkins had demonstrated she knew how to take charge of hotheaded patients with little difficulty.

"Everyone who comes through my doors, I always wish them the best. It's always sad when...when that doesn't happen," the doctor continued. "It's heartbreaking when you know there is nothing you can do to save them."

Dick bowed his head and closed his eyes. Behind his eyelids, he could see an afterimage of Jason, his mask still on and his middle finger up, even as he left the bunker that the Network had taken as its own. That was the moment he had needed to act. To save a life that he had been responsible for and had failed to do.

"How do you deal with it?" he found himself asking, his voice raspy. "The heartbreak. How do you deal with it."

Thompkins was quiet for a moment. "I push past it," she said at last. "I have no choice but to. Other lives depend on me to be at my best, and not held back. In the quiet moments, I mourn, and give them some of my time, then I get back to work. Does it work all the time? No. But that's how I do it because I have little choice other than to give in to my grief and I can't let that happen."

Despite the explanation, it was a simple answer. Push past the hurt and the regret and move forward. Why did that feel so difficult to do? It was easier to ignore it, to focus on saving Gotham and figuring out the future of the Network.

"You make it sound so simple." Dick wasn't going to deny that he sounded depressed in that moment.

"Sadly it isn't," Thompkins refuted. "But it is either that, or allowing myself to be weighed down and overwhelmed. I have no time for that, so guess which one I chose. For you to consider, know that due to my own decisions, this is how I have to make do with my failures. You can choose differently. You don't have to keep dressing up in a ridiculous costume and risk your life needlessly. It's not too late for you find a life that can allow you to help others with a significantly lower chance of being hurt, or worse, dying."

You know, there was a part of him that had expected something like this, especially after she had demanded he not wear his mask around her, but that didn't change how tempting the doctor's words were. Was being Nightwing really all he could do to help his city? Were there not other ways?

And what about the girls? Was he really the person to watch over them and make sure neither had the same fate as Jason? Yes, they were growing in skill and as people, but they were still young and had so much more ahead of them than the dead end that being a vigilante seemed to offer. Should he be encouraging Harper and Stephanie to do other things while they were still living?

Because Barbara was paralyzed from the waist down, Tim was exiled out of fear of repercussions from a two-faced maniac, and Jason was dead. How many more needed to be lost before Nightwing came to the conclusion that he was not fit to be...whatever it was that he was now.

Even though Dr. Thompkins had said it wasn't too late for the former acrobat, Dick found a part of him disagreed with it. Deep down, he felt it was, but not because he was being over-dramatic and self-absorbed. He was already in a deadbeat job as a convenience store clerk and those jobs were dangerous enough by themselves. Such places got robbed all the time; he would know, he had been involved with one or two of them, but had never told the others. Pure luck was what had kept him from being shot, but his luck would run out eventually.

And what he hoped the others would never find out, was that he would track those robbers down and make sure they ended up in police custody at the end of the night, with a broken bone or two to slow them down a bit.

It was kinda surprising how much he really kept to himself.

"You're right about a lot of stuff, but I don't feel like I still have the time," Dick said after a while. "Not anymore. I'm getting older, and opportunities are drying up. I may not have the kind of choices you think I have."

"Don't give up so quickly," was Thompkins' immediate response. "Wherever there's life, there's hope. No one can live their lives without hope, none but the dead."

"Yeah, but until then, I'm going to keep fighting so that another kid doesn't wind up dead, or worse." Turning away from the grave and the doctor, Dick began to make his way out of the cemetery.

He still had a lot to think about, and decisions to make, but for right now, there was no rest for the righteous.

Perhaps he would call his night job off and put on the mask sooner rather than later.

* * *

The wind tugged at his body. Standing at the ledge, the gargoyle extending out even further, Batman rested his foot on the stone creature. He wasn't looking out into the city; fact was, he was looking down at the streets below. It used to be he was searching for trouble.

Now, it was just like the other times he had stood here, only to turn back. The previous times he had been here, he hadn't felt it was the right time. He wasn't ready to leap out and take the city by storm. There was something holding him back.

"_As much as I adore this place, I don't think I'll be rushing back any time soon," Zatanna said, sarcasm dripping from her voice._

_Bruce glanced at her, then looked away. "Thank you for your services," he replied to her. "I couldn't have done this without you."_

"_Of course not," she scoffed, raising a hand up and running it through her hair, absently brushing it off her shoulder as the dark strands fell behind her back. "Why, I'm pretty sure you'd be dead and buried if it weren't for me."_

_The spirit of humility, she was not._

"_I suppose you'll be heading back to your estate? Or are you going to check on Xanadu?" he inquired, not in the mood for more bluster._

_Thankfully, Zana took his cue. "Actually, I'm going to join up with my troup. We're about to go on tour and the timing couldn't be any better."_

_That was encouraging. "I'm sure you'll do well. Where will you be starting?"_

_There was a quiet moment before the magician replied, "I was thinking of Gotham to be honest. I'm sure the people here could use some entertainment, even some magic. Plus, I'd just be coming back in like a week. I'm sure my manager can switch some dates around."_

_That caused Bruce to look at her again, raising an eyebrow. In response, Zatanna rolled her eyes before she swatted his shoulder. "Don't worry, I won't be doing any patrols or anything. I'm done with the crime fighting business for awhile."_

"_That wasn't what I was going to ask. I was assuming you wanted a place to stay."_

_She snorted. "As if. You do realize I can afford a hotel right? And not some crummy one on the east side; I mean one of those fancy high-rise ones. I'm pretty certain there's plenty of vacancies right now."_

"_And here I thought you'd want to stay someplace free."_

_The corner of Zatanna's mouth twitched up into a smirk. "Why, you offering?"_

"_It's the least I could_—"

"_Alright, you can stop twisting my arm," she interrupted. "I'll stay if that's what you really want. All you had to do was ask."_

_Bruce returned her smirk. "Don't you mean offer?"_

"_Details, details."_

Zatanna was true to her word, having firmly lodged herself at Wayne Manor. The last they had spoken, she was going to take a long, hot bath. She had disappeared into the manor after that and he hadn't seen her since.

Considering how long she had been watching his back lately, it was a little strange he had to admit. But then, there was a part of him that was glad she wasn't here. This moment, this hesitation he felt, this was for him. It was an obstacle to overcome and he didn't want any onlookers.

Huntress wasn't around either. In fact, following Bane's defeat, she had told him she was going to partner up with the Birds of Prey again. Apparently she had enjoyed her time with them again as part of the Network, which as fine by him. It seemed their run together had been ending anyway.

Which left him with one last partner.

"_You're sure about this?" Batman questioned as he sat in his chair. The computer monitor was on, but he had his back to it. Instead he was looking at Cassandra, dressed in her Batgirl armor, but she had her mask clutched in one hand at her side._

_She gave him a sharp nod. "I am. I'm ready to be out on my own now."_

_Already, he had misgivings about this. She had never patrolled on her own_—_he hadn't allowed it. But after everything, the emotional turmoil brought up by the future flash drive and Talia's announcement of his own blood child, he was starting to realize that she wasn't just a child. While she was his child, no matter the circumstance, she was growing up and maturing._

_She was a teenager and a stubborn one at that._

_Yet, her desire to become her own person was promising. It was horrifying for him, but he understood at it some level. He had his own journey at one point. To deny Cassandra the same wasn't fair to her._

"_I know you know I'm not entirely sure about this," he started, and immediately saw a defiant look appear on the girl's face. In response, he held a hand up to keep her from interjecting and allow him to finish what he was saying. "I won't lie to you and say I don't have a misgivings about this. Just know that if you ever need me, you can come to me."_

_That seemed to pacify the girl...for now. "Thank you," she responded softly. "And I can go to Huntress too."_

_While not his first pick, he was fine with that. "Of course."_

"_And Zatanna for as long as she is here."_

_Yes, her too. "Of course."_

"_Even the Birds of Prey."_

_Alright, she was starting to get ahead of herself. She wasn't wrong about the Birds, but he had a feeling she was going to keep pressing. So Batman shot her a look, one that told her not to tread any further. Thankfully, she got the message._

_Raising up her mask, she slid it on, the black lens staring him down. "I'll be heading out now." For a moment, she seemed hesitant. "Wish me luck?"_

"_Good luck."_

If Zatanna's absence was odd, Batgirl's was outright intolerable. Yet, he had to hold himself back. Yes, he wanted to hunt her down as she performed her first solo patrol and watch her. Yet, if he did so, he would only push her away and he had done enough of that in the last few weeks. No, the only way to help her, to care for her, was to let her walk on her own.

That said, it wasn't like he didn't know where she was. A tracer in her armor was broadcasting her location to him at all times. She just didn't know about it.

Batman sighed. He was stalling now. That wasn't him, that wasn't Batman. Steeling himself, he looked over the city in all of its gloom.

A light appeared, his symbol appearing in the night's sky.

Gotham was calling to him. Far be it for him to ignore her call.

Reading himself, he took the leap, jumping off the gargoyle and soaring into the night.

* * *

To FlackAttack: As usual, not everything has been wrapped up. That's for the next story

That concludes this three-part story. It's a little hard to believe it's over, honestly. Anonymous Void and I would like to thank everyone that has read, reviewed, and enjoyed this story.

However, AV and I aren't finished with this series yet. We are working on the next installment, which will be posted on AV's profile. It's titled _The Eleventh Hour. _A reviewer on an earlier story suggested it and AV and I liked it enough to want to use it. We'd like to thank the Guest reviewer who came up with it. We hope to get the story out soon.

Once again, thank to everyone who read and enjoyed this story.

Until next time,

ShadowMajin


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